


Beyond the Call

by DuWinter



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:49:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 35
Words: 156,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23850346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DuWinter/pseuds/DuWinter
Summary: Miranda is faced with the possibility of losing Andy soon after finding her.
Relationships: Emily Charlton/OFC, Miranda Priestly/Andrea Sachs, Serena/OMC
Comments: 81
Kudos: 263





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seriesly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seriesly/gifts), [Associatedbears](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Associatedbears/gifts).



> Disclaimer: The novel The Devil Wears Prada (2003) was written by Lauren Weisberger and published by Broadway Books. The Film, made in 2006, was directed by David Frankel and produced by Wendy Finerman and Keren Rosenfelt. Ms. Weisberger's novel was adapted for the screen by Aline Brosh MeKenna. It starred our two favorite ladies, Meryl Streep and Anne Hathaway. The Devil Wears Prada and it's characters do not belong to me. This material is written strictly for the purpose of the enjoyment of The Devil Wears Prada's fan fiction audience. I'm just playing with the characters for a short while and I promise to put them away neatly when I'm through. No money being made here. Please don't sue, you'd be very disappointed when you found out I don't own anything worth taking.
> 
> A/N 1: For the purposes of this story, all events are taking place before the Congressionally directed repeal of the Army's Don't Ask, Don't Tell policy regarding homosexuals serving in the United States armed Forces. Truth be told, when I started this project I did not believe that President Obama, even with hard work and the best of intentions, would manage to get the repeal of this outdated and idiotic bias past the hidebound idiots and political hacks that serve in the Congress and Senate of my country.
> 
> A/N 2: I know that members of the Ohio National Guard and others in service to the American Nation continue to serve bravely in the conflicts overseas. I honor all that give that service. The 192nd Supply Regiment, and the 161st Military Police Company, however, are fictitious units and do not exist.
> 
> A/N 3: This work has been written very differently from most of my writing endeavors. While the idea for this story had been in my mind for some time when it demanded to be written. I did not engage in the level of research I normally engage in. Some of my materials are pure fiction culled from watching TV and movies. Deus ex machina in full effect. This is a work of fiction. I'm sure that some of my audience will find parts of it in error or stretching their credibility. I ask the reader to suspend disbelief and go with it.
> 
> A/N 3: There is a a very unpleasant character residing in this story. He is racist, misogynistic, corrupt, and one of those individuals the world would truly be a better place without. He is a fictional character and his views in no way express the views of the author of this piece.
> 
> AN 4: President Obama and First Lady Michelle Obama (both of whom I admire greatly) are characters in this story I tried to write them carefully and with humanity. 
> 
> AN 5: This story was originally posted between February 24th 2010 and March 9th 2013 an posted on my Live Journal page (DuWinter's Muse). 
> 
> Very Special Thanks to ragelikeafire who was with me for the majority of the writing process as my Beta. You taught me a great deal and I am a better writer because of the heavy lifting you did to make this story better. She deserves a co-author credit for her work on this story.
> 
> Very Special Thanks to associatedbears, who's beta reads and constructive advice in many of the early chapters made this a much better fic than it would have otherwise been.
> 
> Very Special Thanks: to peetsden who, when my wonderful beta ragelikeafire was unavailable due to real life time constraints, immediately jumped in and agreed to help me out by acting as my beta reader.
> 
> All hail the mighty and powerful ragelikeafire, peetsden, and associatedbears, Beta Goddesses Supreme! Bow, offer sacrifice and do proper homage.
> 
> Thank you to Needled_ink1975, for being my sounding board and for constructively giving me a kick in the ass when I need one. Also to to Shesgottaread, who's constructive criticism and questions have caused me to re-examine parts of this work and will, in the end, make it better than originally conceived. Thank you both for the effort you expended.
> 
> This work has been added too and extensively tweaked since the last beta read. Needless to say all mistakes are mine and mine alone.
> 
> Comments feed the Muse, but contrary little bastard that he is, like a puppy, he'll look me in the eye claiming to never have been fed. Comments and constructive criticism eagerly encouraged.

The Corporal's arm screamed pain as she crawled on her belly through the ruins of the sandbagged bunker towards the M60 machine gun emplacement. Incoming fire divoted the area around her. In the dim light provided by her burning re-supply truck she could see that the gunner was dead. They're were all dead.

The squad that manned this forward guard post, her partner from the re-supply truck, even the TV news crew that rode out here with them to photograph this desolate pass and this forward post. A post at the ass end of nowhere which would be withdrawn in a few days. It was only here to guard the road through the pass. Only going to be here until the Italian medical team in the Afghan village below had completed their humanitarian work with the women and children refugees that were there and then returned to Kabul.  
  
The soldiers that manned this position had been caught out in the open, most of the squad excitedly hamming it up for one of the TV crew's cameras. She and her partner were unloading supplies from the truck and moving them into the bunker. She was approaching the open door to the bunker carrying an arm-full of MRE rations. The TV crew's second camera man, who'd been attempting to flirt with her outrageously, was filming her from inside the bunker door when the first rocket grenade had hit. Most of the TV crew and half the squad were gone in an instant. The rest had been picked off in the next handful of seconds by stifling automatic weapons fire and fierce rocket grenades as the soldiers tried to respond to the surprise attack.  
  
One of the deadly missiles had rocketed past her ear, missing her by only inches and passed through the open portal into the bunker. Its detonation had blown off the roof and violently thrown the Corporal backwards, knocking her off her feet. With ringing ears and half blind from blood covering her face, she tried to rise but quickly discovered that her left leg wouldn't hold her weight. The left sleeve of her jacket was in bloody shreds and her arm was alive with pain. She found it hard to breathe as she began to crawl, knowing that the rubble of the bunker was her best chance for some kind of cover.  
  
The Corporal was aware that this was an attack in force, that the Taliban insurgents were here in serious numbers. The number of AK-47's she heard firing on her position told her that. She thought of the women and children in the village below. They would be treated as collaborators. The Italian medical team would likely be killed outright. At least the men would be. She had heard stories of what happened to women that the insurgents considered enemy military personnel. She had no intention of allowing such things to happen to her.  
  
Her rifle, which had been slung on its webbing on her left shoulder, had been torn away from her when she was hit. She scanned her stinging eyes around her position and spotted it lying on the ground about twenty feet away. To retrieve it would require her to move from behind cover. Her best hope was to find a weapon in the wreckage of the bunker. She was cold and very aware of the volume of blood that was seeping from her shrapnel wounds. Her ballistic armor had likely saved her life but her leg, arm, armpit and the side of her neck weren't protected. Leaving her left side virtually useless. She was truly scared now, because her leg didn't hurt. It just felt like dead weight. She had heard that when the body was really badly wounded, shock shut the pain responses down.  
  
She pulled herself farther into the rubble, tears forming in her eyes as she struggled. She drew herself up behind the heavy machine gun and looked out. She could see the insurgents moving up. They were confidently out in the open, as if convinced that the bunker was no longer a threat. Their plan was clear, they would over run the position and then attack the village below. It was hopeless. She knew it. She was bleeding badly and knew that she'd likely lose consciousness before to very long. There was only so much ammunition in the bandoleer feeding the weapon. There was no one to resupply her. But as she sighted down the barrel of the weapon on the advancing enemy, she knew she had no choice. In the acrid stench of gunpowder and the chattering of the heavy gun firing she proved their assumption wrong.  
  
Time slowed around her and she found her thoughts drifting to the young male nurse she had met yesterday when she was bringing provisions to the medical team. A sweet young man who had pinged on the Corporal's gaydar. His laughing smile and dark hair reminded her a great deal of her best friend Doug back home. She remembered the Afghan mother with her twin daughters. The twin teens' dark eyed similarity reminded her of the blue eyed identical twins she had left behind. Blue eyes so much like their mother's. She had promised their mother that she would come home safe. It was one of the last things she'd said to the woman that had come to be her whole world.  
  
Her ammunition all but gone she closed her eyes as she grabbed for the radio, knowing what she must do. “Foxfire Two Actual this is Sierra Four One, do you copy?” she shouted above the chatter of incoming gunfire.  
  
“Foxfire Two Actual, we copy.” the tinny voice from the radio replied.  
  
“Foxfire Two Actual, Position is over run! Squad down! We have hostiles in the front door and headed out the back. Require immediate artillery support!” The soldier screamed into the mike. The insurgents were moving up again, although more cautiously this time. As she ducked behind what was left of the sandbagged wall she incongruently noticed that the record light was still lit on the TV camera lying in the ruble next to the mangled body of its operator.  
  
“Sierra Four One, provide barrage coordinates.” the speaker on the radio replied.  
  
The Corporal closed her eyes and reached her blood covered responsive hand up to her uninjured shoulder activating the emergency IRF retrieval beacon that hung there. “On my beacon!” she hollered into the mike. “Let it rain! I repeat! Let it rain!”  
  
“Sierra Four One, barrage on your signal will put you at ground zero of the strike....” replied the tinny voice of the radio operator.  
  
A tear ran down her cheek as she dared to glance out the gun port. The nearest of the Taliban were close enough that she could see their faces. She quickly pulled her head back down. “It's a shame some of my last words to Miranda have to be a lie....” she whispered. “Foxfire Two Actual,” she yelled into the radio, “civilian refugees and a non-combatant medical team in the village below. Enemy in-force headed for the back door! I repeat again, on my location! Let it rain! Let it rain!”  
  
Miles away the radio operator looked to his Commanding Officer, who nodded. The radio operator spoke into his microphone, “Duck and cover Sierra Four One. Incoming.” He clicked off the mike, closed his eyes and quietly whispered “and God's speed you brave crazy bitch.” Seconds later the eight Howitzers of the battery roared into life sending screaming death into the sky. Seconds after that the forward guard post and everything around it for more than a hundred meters disappeared in the hellish aftermath of a heavy artillery shelling.  
  
*****  
  
Half a world away Cassidy Priestly sat, bored, in 7th grade Contemporary Social Studies watching web articles about the war in Afghanistan on her laptop computer. Try as she might she couldn't bring herself to care about that conflict so far away. She really didn't understand why American soldiers needed to be there; to Cassidy, it was just wrong. She changed websites going to _CNN_ and the images of a breaking news story caught her eye. The camera angle was terrible, the lighting poor as an American soldier crawled past the camera. The body of the soldier obscured the lens for a moment but Cassidy could clearly see the bloody shoulder and the name on the breast of the jacket; SACHS, A. Cassidy covered her mouth to stifle the gasp of shock as she watched the soldier crawl away from the camera and struggle to pull herself up behind a machine gun. As the weapon began to fire Cassidy's eyes grew large as she watched the horror of the scene unfold.  
  
Andy had gone to Afghanistan. Mother had told them so. Mother had told them that Andy was part of a supply unit for the National Guard and had to go, because the country needed her. It was her duty. Mother had said Andy would be stationed in the city of Kabul where she would be safe. The images from _CNN_ didn't tell the same story. Andy wasn't safe. Andy was scared and screaming into a radio and then there were explosions before the image went black. The commentator said the camera had belonged to a reporter that had been killed in the attack. It had captured the images of the heroic American soldier protecting women and children refugees and an Italian medical team. That the images had been transmitted from the camera by satellite and only ended when the camera had been destroyed by the shelling of American artillery. That the soldier had called down a strike on her own position to protect the village below. The talking head on _CNN_ said that the soldier had bravely given her life in the defense of innocent civilians.  
  
Cassidy stood from her chair, knocking it over backward, her vision blinded by tears running down her cheeks. Andy was Mother's friend. Was becoming her and Caroline's friend. She had to find Caroline and then she had to call her Mother. Andy made her Mother happy. The horror of realization made her usually rational mind retreat into the frightened little girl inside. Mummy needed to know what _CNN_ was saying. Mummy could make them tell the truth. Make them say Andy was alright. Ignoring the objection of her teacher she blindly made for the classroom door. Caroline would be in English Lit just a few rooms down the hall. It was hard to see through the tears but she had to get to Caroline and then call Mummy....  
  
*****  
  
Miranda Priestly never took calls during meetings. This was a stone cut ironclad fact as far as Nigel knew, and he had been with her at _Runway_ for more than twenty years. Today was different. Today Emily interrupted the meeting with the Art Department to quietly tell her that her daughters were on the telephone and that they sounded quite upset. Miranda immediately took the call. After listening for a few moments Nigel could see her face pale, and then her beautiful complexion turned to gray. She told the girls that Roy would come and fetch them and then bring them to her, that she would be with them soon. She then dropped the phone and, zombiefied, she walked out of her office without a word to the assembled employees. In Nigel's experience this was unprecedented. He dismissed the members of the Art department and then, with a rising dread, followed Miranda out of the office. Emily sat at her desk watching Miranda through the glass window of the conference room. Miranda stood there, motionless, watching something on the big screen TV that hung on the wall there.  
  
Nigel looked to Emily at her desk who returned his look wide eyed with worry. Her slight head shake told him that she probably didn't know any more than he did. Nigel stopped and spoke to the frazzled girl. “What's going on?” he quietly demanded.  
  
Emily looked at him. “How the bloody hell should I know?” she whispered. “Her 'little monsters' called crying and then she had me call Roy to pick them up from school and then to come to get her. He's due any minute. She's canceled the rest of her day and all of tomorrow too!” The girl was on the verge of hyperventilating.  
  
Nigel headed for the conference room to ask Miranda if she was okay when Miranda, who rarely raised her voice, shouted, actually shouted for Emily.  
  
Emily flew past him to the conference room doorway. “Emily,” Miranda said, obviously trying to control violent emotions. “I met a general of the Army at the MOMA event a few weeks ago. Get him on the telephone.” Scared, Emily rushed to obey.  
  
Nigel looked to Miranda, concerned. He'd never seen her like this. She stared at the TV, her hand reaching out, seemingly of its own volition, to caress the image of a soldier on the screen. The background audio from the TV was distorted, the camera askew and not in a good position to catch the action it was recording. Incoming bullets pocked the ground around the obviously wounded figure on the screen as the soldier seemed to be screaming something into a radio. The famous white haired _CNN_ news anchor solemnly added voice over commentary. “Our sources at the Pentagon confirm that after the other soldiers at this forward guard post were killed in a surprise attack, this brave American soldier held off the enemy as long as she could and then, in a complete act of self sacrifice, called down an artillery strike on her own head to stop insurgents from getting past her position. The insurgents intended target was apparently a civilian village in the valley below this post. The village has lately become a refugee center with an Italian medical team supplying aid to those Afghan civilians in need of medial help.” Nigel's eyes were glued to the screen. There was something about the soldier in the image, he thought as he watched her turn her scared, achingly familiar, doe brown eyes back to the camera. She reached to her throat and clasped something hanging around her neck before closing her eyes. Shells screamed out of the night sky and turned the image to hot light before the screen changed to black. The news anchor looked solemnly at the camera. “We have just been informed that this American hero's name was Corporal Andrea Sachs of the 192nd Supply Regiment of the Ohio National Guard,” he said in compassionate -award winning -anchor style.  
  
“Jesus Christ,” Nigel whispered.  
  
“General Keiffer on line one Miranda,” came Emily's voice over the intercom. Marshaling herself Miranda picked up the telephone receiver. Covering the receiver with her hand for a split-second she said “Out, Nigel.” The last thing Nigel heard was Miranda saying “General Keiffer? Miranda Priestly. I have a favor to ask....” as he left the conference room.  
  
Nigel closed his eyes and felt his heart ache. He now had an idea of what had happened. And of what the ramifications were likely to be.

  
*****  



	2. Chapter 2

In the conference room Miranda slammed the phone down onto its cradle. “Useless!” she snarled. Her mind was a jumble of rash thoughts and decisions. Usually she was the very definition of decisive action, from problem, to thought, to plan, to enacted solution. Now she didn't know what to do. Waves of emotion crashed in on her. She had shut all that passionate emotion away many, many years ago so that she could focus on becoming who and what she was today. That iron control had been softened recently. The army wouldn't help her. She was not 'family'. Her mind flashed back to the beginning of this insanity.  
  
It was during Paris that it had all started, she recalled. But then knew the thought for a half truth. Her interest in the 'smart, fat girl' had begun the day Andrea walked into her office for her interview. There was something different about the woman. Her fashion rebirth and her ability to almost telepathically meet Miranda's needs even before Miranda spoke them was disconcerting. Focus had come with the Harry Potter manuscript incident. An impossible test to punish the naive girl, who, Miranda knew, had fallen victim to one of her twin daughters' pranks. At her daughters' urging, the foolish girl had brought the book upstairs instead of leaving it on the table by the door as she was supposed to do. Andrea had caught Miranda involved in an argument with her husband. The girl bearing witness to the situation, for some reason, made Miranda extremely uncomfortable. Miranda feared on some level, that Andrea, seeing her argue with her husband, would lessen Miranda in the girl's eyes. So Miranda, in her inimitable fashion, decided to demand something that couldn't be accomplished as punishment for the crime. This would give her an excuse to fire the girl, thus removing the source of the unfamiliar and unwanted feelings. The task to obtain two copies of the unobtainable should have been an impossible task, but not for Andrea. Her girls had copies of the manuscript on the train that very afternoon. Andrea had succeeded and with this success, focus became clarity.  
  
The madness began to truly take form the night of the party where Andrea had saved Miranda from embarrassment by diverting Irv Ravitz's attention from Miranda's drunken idiot husband. She had felt grateful to the girl, even though rationality told her that the girl was just doing her job.  
  
Then came Paris. Andrea was there the night her idiot husband called and announced his intentions for divorce. Miranda had cried. Not for the marriage. Not for the loss of a great love, but for a failure and for the collateral damage the press was going to do to her daughters' opinion of her. Andrea had been there. In the room with her. Andrea had offered that most rare and valuable commodity, compassion. Andrea proved that she cared about Miranda that night, beyond any duty, obligation or paycheck. Two days later Andrea had struggled to warn her about the attempted coup to take _Runway_ from her. Miranda had, of course, known about the plot to have her replaced as Editor-in Chief of the magazine for several weeks and was already well into enacting her counterstrike to neutralize the threat. It did, however, touch her that Andrea cared enough to fight to warn her. It also, she realized, stung her when she discovered that Andrea had found out the information in Christian Thompson's bed.  
  
Then came necessary evil of her betrayal of Nigel's hopes. She'd needed Jacqueline to take the position at James Holt's company. As much as she had hated it, she'd needed to pander to the woman to secure her own place at _Runway_. Miranda had always played her cards close to the chest. It was the product of thirty-plus years of climbing the corporate ladder in a hostile 'man's' world. She still hadn't told Nigel that the job at James Holt's was never to be his. The establishment of a new magazine focused on Men's Fashion was the product of years of planning. _Cutting Edge_ , a men's fashion equivalent of _Runway_ had been on the drawing board in Miranda's mind for more than half a decade and Nigel had always been in the frame for the top position at the new publication.  
  
Andrea had tried to walk away after Miranda had betrayed Nigel. Had left after Miranda had clumsily tried to start to tell Andrea what she felt beginning between them while in the car between the James Holt announcement and the next show. On leaving the car she'd noticed immediately that Andrea was not at her side. From the top of the stairs, with her heart pounding in her chest, she'd turned and watched Andrea walk away. She'd tried to call on her cell phone and watched as Andrea, after a moment of indecision, threw her cell phone into a fountain. Then, in the blink of an eye, Miranda did the unthinkable. In long strides she was down the steps and diving back through the sea of Paparazzi. She crossed the street without stopping to look for traffic and took Andrea by the arm insisting that they talk.  
  
That was the beginning. They didn't attend the show and instead Miranda took her assistant back to her hotel room where they would not be interrupted. She spoke to Andrea at length, spilling her truths and her feelings. Of what had gone before and what she saw in the future. All the passion and feeling she'd kept so bottled up inside her for decades came pouring out. She spoke of the hope of a friendship and then she spoke of a dream of more. Andrea, shocked, had listened. And, much to Miranda's surprise, she'd stayed.  
  
At the end of an exhausting fashion week they'd returned to New York. Andrea had refused the promotion to First Assistant. She had absolutely forbidden it. Emily was the First Assistant and that was, simply, that. But Andrea had stayed. Stayed as Second Assistant and had discreetly become Miranda's friend and confidant.  
  
Months passed as they learned more about one another. Miranda opened up to Andrea, speaking of things that she could speak of to no-one else. She also took the time to learn about Andrea. One of the things that surprised her the most was that Andrea had joined the Ohio National Guard in order to finance her education. Without the Guard, Andrea would not have been able to afford her time at Northwestern. Andrea had completed a four-year tour in the National Guard prior to her coming to _Runway_ , over a year of her service had been spent overseas in a supply regiment in Afghanistan.  
  
Their friendship allowed them to share time outside of _Runway_ and yet, to Miranda, Andrea remained the best assistant she had ever had. It was as if the growing closeness allowed Andrea to even better anticipate Miranda's wants and needs. As if, somehow, the relationship outside of the office made the one in the workplace run even more efficiently. Andrea was there throughout the nastiness of the divorce from Steven. And for once, what the press said didn't seem to matter so much. Andrea spent time with Miranda and her daughters, the twins coming to both accept Andrea and like her too. Miranda knew that their relationship was progressing. She was hopeful that given time Andrea would be ready to take the next step.  
  
It was a Tuesday morning when Miranda entered her office and found Andrea standing beside her desk. Miranda was good at reading people, it was a talent she had developed at an early age. Every line of Andrea's body showed her trepidation about whatever she had to tell Miranda. Miranda sat down silently, expecting some new _Runway_ related debacle when Andrea put an official looking piece of paper on her desk. “I've received order's Miranda.” she'd said quietly. “My National Guard unit has been reactivated. I......I'd like a leave of absence....from _Runway_...... I ship out in four days.”  
  
Miranda had pursed her lips. “Nonsense Andrea. You did your military service.” she'd said.  
  
Andrea shook her head. “No Miranda. My status is Inactive Reserve,” she'd replied. “They can recall me to service for up to two years. I've only been out sixteen months. I have to go.”  
  
Miranda looked to this women she'd come to care a great deal for. “I'll make some phone calls,” she'd said. “I'll take care of this nonsense.”  
  
Andrea again shook her head. “Please don't do that, Miranda,” she said. “I have to go. People in my unit are depending on me. I have to go and do this. I couldn't live with myself if I didn't go and something happened to one of my squad.”  
  
Miranda understood self discipline and duty. She nodded and told Andrea to get a temp to replace her as Second Assistant. As Andrea left the office Miranda's heart had raced and loaded tears threatened to fall.  
  
Alone at home that evening Miranda knew with certainty what she needed to do. Time was short so it wouldn't be as she would have wanted it to be. It would lack the romance and theater that she would have preferred, but needs must. When Andrea arrived to deliver the book that night Miranda met her in the foyer of the townhouse. “Andrea,” she'd said softly, “If we had more time, I would be patient. I would have waited and when you were ready I would have asked what's been in my heart for months now. But now you have to go away and I......” She hesitated for a split second, then stepped forward embracing Andrea, kissing her soundly. Miranda could tell that Andrea was surprised at first, but within seconds the brunette woman melted in her arms and was returning the kiss, Andrea's hands tracing small patterns on Miranda's back.  
  
Emily's voice over the conference room intercom ripped Miranda from her revere. “Miranda? General Keiffer on line one.  
  
Miranda snatched up the phone. “Yes?” she asked breathlessly.  
  
“Ms. Priestly, this didn't come from me. In fact, if it comes up, we've never spoken. Corporal Andrea Sachs is alive. She's been wounded. They've just finished stabilizing her condition at a field hospital then she'll be Transferred to the Landstuhl medical facility outside Ramstein Air Force Base in Brandenburg Germany. ETA of touchdown in Germany is about eighteen hours.”  
  
Andrea was alive. Miranda felt as if she could breath again. “You may count on my discretion, General. Thank you for your aid. It will not be forgotten.”  
  
The phone was barely the cradle before Miranda again shouted for Emily. The redhead was at the doorway as if she had wings attached to her feet. “Yes, Miranda?” She asked.  
  
The instructions came rapid fire. “Charter a plane. Something capable of a flight to Europe. It is to pick up passengers in Cincinnati Ohio, as soon as possible. Then to pick me up at whatever local airport here is most convenient. Let me know when the plane will be on the ground in Cincinnati. Then put a call through to Andrea's parents. I'll speak with them personally. I am to be on the ground in Brandenburg Germany as close to the Ramstein Air Force Base as you can get me in less than eighteen hours from now. Send Nigel in. That's all.”  
  
“Germany?” Emily squeaked, ignoring the dismissal. “Miranda, you have the new D&G shoot tomorrow and the Metropolitan Opera fund raiser...Paris fashion week is just a month off!” The cogs slowly began to turn in her head. Andrea's parent's? Andrea's out of the country, on some ridiculous National Guard thing or some such. Anger flared in the red headed woman's stomach. Andrea was out playing soldier somewhere and she was stuck here for the last four months doing her job and Andrea's job whilst trying to keep the newest temp from screwing up yet again. For once she spoke without thinking “Miranda, if Andrea has gotten herself in some kind of trouble it's not your....”  
  
The look Miranda gave Emily silenced her immediately. “Emily,” she said in her iciest tone, her eyes frigid blue and murderous. “You've been with me quite a while now, which is why I know that your little outburst won’t happen again.” She moved toward the woman so they were eye to eye. Miranda's voice dipped just above a whisper cutting Emily like a razorblade. “But you ever question me or my motives or if I ever hear of you saying anything disparaging about Andera again, I will not only see to it that your career in fashion is over. I'll see to it that the only way you can make a living is turning tricks on Time's Square.” Pausing with the death stare for another moment, just to make sure that she had been fully understood. She then turned and threw her final comment over her shoulder. “Now go and do what I told you to do. That's all!”  
  
With a hammering heart, Emily fled to her desk to do Miranda's bidding.  
  
Alone once again, Miranda was left to ponder over old memories. She and Andrea made love in her bed that night. Miranda had never intended that. Her daughters were home and asleep in their rooms, for God's sake! But once things had gotten started they just seemed to spiral out of her control. She had been an icon for near twenty years. Married three times, had experiences most of the 'little' people couldn't begin to fathom. Nothing had prepared her for having the woman she loved in her arms.  
  
As she thought of the morning after, she smiled. A comedy of errors that had made her feel like a teenager again; Andrea hiding in the master bathroom while Miranda had hurried the twins off to school, all the while trying to sneak Andrea clothes and coffee without detection. She had then cleared her schedule for the day, nearly sending Emily into apoplexy. She explained to Emily that Andrea would be helping her with a special project and that under no circumstances were they to be disturbed. She gave the clear instruction that Nigel would be in charge of the day-to-day running of _Runway_ until her return the following afternoon and in an unprecedented move, she announced that ‘The Book’, could wait.  
  
A moment later Nigel arrived in Miranda's office pulling her again from her thoughts of the past. Miranda spoke softly without looking up. “Nigel, I'm flying out of the country. I don't know how long I'm going to be gone.”  
  
Nigel nodded. “Is she......?....How badly is she hurt?” He stammered.  
  
Miranda went still. “She's alive.” she answered hesitantly. “Injured is all I know. They'll be flying her to a medical facility in West Germany.”  
  
Nigel shook his head. “I know you have to go, but what do you hope to accomplish there Miranda? You're not family....They likely won't even let you see her."  
  
Miranda looked up, her eyes blazing. “She's my lover!” She snarled. The weight of the words, never before spoken aloud, crashed down on her. She then met Nigel's eyes. “You knew?” She asked, shocked.  
  
Nigel nodded. “Of course I knew Darling,” he said flamboyantly, “I see all. I've been watching it happen for the better part of a year..., he hesitated for a moment. “And Andy told me the day before she left. She had occasionally needed a shoulder to cry on and I was that shoulder. She'd been terrified that her feelings were inappropriate and her situation was impossible. She was falling in love with her unobtainable, very heterosexual boss and that you could never return those feelings. When it happened,...I guess she felt that I had the right to know after all the nights of drying her tears.” He looked to Miranda with care in his eyes. “I'm glad that she found out she was wrong.” He then sighed, “the problem remains that the military isn't going to recognize that you are connected to her,” he offered sadly. “As an organization they are only slightly behind the Ugandan government in their bureaucratic homophobia. That stupid 'Don't ask, Don't tell policy'. That's why Andy was so adamant that we had keep your relationship secret from everybody.  
  
Miranda sighed, “I'm making arrangements so her parents can fly over with me. Perhaps I can convince them....”  
  
“Miranda!” Nigel almost hissed, “Think about what you're saying. They don't even know that Andy is dating a woman much less that the woman in question happens to be her boss!”  
  
Miranda nodded, tears threatened and her control was on the edge of breaking.. “If she dies Nigel...," her voice cracked as she spoke, “...I don't know what I'll do."  
  
Nigel nodded, moving to the woman before him, he daringly reached out to place a comforting, if awkward, hand on her shoulder “Miranda,” he said softly, “you are Miranda Priestly, Ice Queen, Dragon Lady, the Devil in Heels...I've been with you more than twenty years. And I believe with all my heart that there's nothing you can't do. Get on the plane. Deal with it one crisis at a time. You know people. Figure out who owes you and who can help you. I'll hold down the fort here. Go and bring her home.”  
  
Emily's disembodied voice from the intercom interrupted any chance Miranda might of had to reply. “Miranda, the plane you requested will be on the ground at Cincinnati/Northern Kentucky International in twenty-five minutes. Frankford is the closest jet capable commercial airport to where Ramstein Air Force Base is located. It's about seventy-five miles away. There will be a car and driver awaiting your arrival. I'm ready to place your call to the Sachs residence in Cincinnati.”  
  
Three minutes later Miranda was on the phone with Andrea's father. “Mr Sachs, Miranda Priestly calling.  
  
Richard Sachs' voice was rough, uneven and wavering. “Ms. Priestly, this isn't a good time,” he said.  
  
“Mr. Sachs, I know your daughter has been injured.....” Miranda said, hoping that he would allow her to help.  
  
“Injured...?” Richard Sachs answered. “Ms. Priestly, we haven't had any word. We haven't heard anything from the National Guard.......All we've seen is what has been on the television.....”  
  
Miranda sighed. “Your daughter is in a field hospital in Afghanistan,” she said as gently as she could manage. “In about eighteen hours she'll have been transferred to a military hospital in Germany....  
  
Richard interrupted. “Are you saying my daughter is alive?” He almost whimpered in relief.  
  
“Yes, Mr. Sachs, Andrea is alive. I have a private airplane that will be on the runway at Cincinnati/Northern Kentucky International Airport in just under twenty minutes. It will wait there for you and your wife. If you can get there in the next few hours. We can be on the ground in Frankford before Andrea arrives in Germany. We'll take ground transportation from there to get to the hospital.”  
  
At the Ohio end of the connection, Richard Sachs was a bundle of emotional need. Fear, uncertainty, despair that he'd lost his child and now, the most dangerous emotion, hope. He missed the 'we' in Miranda's statement. “I can be at the airport in half an hour Ms. Priestly,” he answered.  
  
“And you wife?” Miranda asked.  
  
“My wife.....? He stammered. “My wife and I are not together Ms. Priestly. I'll call her and tell her about the plane. But I don't know if she'll come or not. She and Andy had a ... a falling out several weeks before Andy shipped out.”  
  
“Very well,” Miranda answered. “Let the airplane's crew know if she'll be coming or not. They'll wait up to three hours, but not a moment more. If you are not aboard by then the plane will leave Cincinnati without you.”  
  
“Ms. Priestly, I don't know how to...” Richard said into the telephone receiver.  
  
Miranda, usually did not do gentle. But this time, because it was for her Andrea, she censored herself and spoke softly, thinking about the man at the other end of the phone and his feelings. “This isn't the time for that right now, Mr. Sachs. Right now our thoughts must be solely for Andrea. Get in touch with your wife. Then get to the airport as soon as you can.”  
  
As soon as Miranda was off the telephone Emily was back on the intercom to tell her that Roy had arrived with the twins and was awaiting her downstairs. Miranda hurried from the office to join her children.  
  
On the car ride to the townhouse Miranda explained to her tearful children that Andrea was not, in fact, dead, but that she had been hurt. She tried to minimize the gravity of the situation. She explained about the airplane and that in a few hours she was going to go to the airport to fly out to see for herself about Andrea's condition. The twins wiped the tears from their faces and nodded while looking at her solemnly.  
  
On arrival home she instructed them to see the housekeeper about something to eat. She then went up to her bedroom making quick work of packing. Selecting what to pack had always been mindless make-work for Miranda. She'd always been able to just sort of intuit what she'd require. This allowed her mind to drift as her hands were busy gathering what she'd need and put it into the bag. Andrea had said almost nothing about her family when she and Miranda were experimenting with friendship. Since they had become lovers Andrea's letters had hinted at difficulties with her mother. They had apparently had a troubled relationship for quite some time. Andrea didn't really go into any great detail and Miranda hadn't pushed. Although Andrea had mentioned through her correspondence and few phone calls that she'd rather discuss what was happening between her and Miranda and that there would be time later to learn about each others' families. Miranda suspected that Andrea's Mother and Father had neglected to inform their Daughter that they had separated, likely using the rational that she didn't need the burden of that information while she was serving over in Afghanistan.  
  
Bringing her luggage downstairs she was surprised to find both daughters waiting at the front door, dressed for travel and with their own suitcases at their side. Miranda rolled her eyes, but smiled inside.  
  
Miranda watched from the back of the town car as the Lear jet touched down in New York. She had asked Roy to park the car out on the tarmac awaiting the jet's arrival. VIPs were allowed such eccentricities in this metropolis. Waiting in the back of the car allowed her time to again lose herself in thoughts of recent events. Her girls were not happy when she told them that they couldn't make this trip. She was forced to explain more that she'd intended to about how badly Andrea was injured. In the end, as one, they'd nodded seriously. Then Cassidy, who was usually much less insightful than her sister, spoke. “You're in love with her aren't you?”  
  
Miranda was stunned. She'd never contemplated telling her daughters the truth so soon. It was too early in the relationship. She had thought that she and Andrea had all the time in the world. There were so many things that could go wrong and her daughters had been hurt by the previous choices Miranda had made in her romantic entanglements. Without conscious thought she told them the truth.  
  
“Go and bring her home to us Mother,” Caroline instructed quietly as her sister enthusiastically nodded.  
  
Upon boarding the aircraft Miranda came face to face with the Sachs. Richard was polite if somewhat withdrawn. It was only to be expected Miranda thought to herself. After all, his daughter's medical condition was something of an open question and he was in the company of the woman he'd separated from. Andrea's mother Janet Sachs, on the other hand, was sullen. She continually sent Miranda evil glares throughout the flight. Miranda suspected that the woman's behavior was passive-aggressive, but she couldn't be bothered to care about what ever problem the woman had with her. Her thoughts were focused on Andrea. She did notice, however, that there was very little in the way of communication between the two Sachs and that things were very tense. Husband and wife sat determinedly at opposite ends of the airplane's cabin, meaning that the long flight remained mostly silent, generously allowing each passenger to get lost in their own thoughts.  
  
Emily had outdone herself. Not only was the car and its driver waiting for Miranda and her party, but there was an escort of motorcycle police waiting to run interference between Frankfort and the medical center.  
  
Within ten minutes of arriving at the hospital Janet Sachs had proven herself passive aggressive beyond Miranda's wildest expectations. Without a word to Miranda, who had provided the means for her to be on the European continent so she could be at her daughter's side, Janet had spoken to the Doctor in charge of Andy's case. “That white haired witch is not a member of my family,” she's stated emphatically. “I don't want her anywhere near my daughter!”

*****


	3. Chapter 3

It had taken two Military Policemen, that each outweighed Miranda Priestly by more than a hundred-plus pounds, to bar her from entering an elevator to the Third Floor where Andrea's bed was located. Miranda watched as the elevator doors closed. Richard's head hung in shame and Janet bore a victorious smirk on her face. Let it be said, that later, both of the MPs would categorically state that they would rather be back in basic training under the tender mercies of their Drill Instructor then to have to face down Miranda Priestly ever again.

Miranda had been on the ground in Germany for ten hours and in that time she has been frustrated at every turn. Since Andrea's Mother's pronouncement to the Medical Staff, Miranda had not even been allowed on the hospital floor that Andrea was housed on. No information on Andrea's condition was forthcoming from hospital staff. The two MPs, while respectful, were always hovering nearby. What little comfort offered came from a surprising source. He had sought her out in the First Floor waiting area where she had taken refuge, with a peace offering of coffee in hand. “It's not a latte,” he said, offering the paper cup, “but it's hot. Andy said you like it hot....” Desperate for any source of information Miranda allowed a begrudging smile.  
  
Richard Sachs was not terribly informative about Andrea's condition other than to assure her that Andrea was stable, still in the induced coma and was being looked after by the Doctors. He was uncomfortable and apologetic about his wife's behavior but unwilling to gainsay her decision about Miranda not seeing Andrea. Miranda suspected that his behavior had to do with the uncertainty he must have been feeling about the separation from his wife of near thirty years. He was here, Miranda soon intuited, on a different mission entirely.  
  
“Ms Priestly,” he began,  
  
“Please call me Miranda.” She said, offering an olive branch in her pleasant tone. “I have always despised being called Ms Priestly.”  
  
Richard Sachs nodded. “Alright,” he answered. “Please call me Richard.” He sighed softly. “Miranda, I need to know what the nature of the relationship is between you and my daughter.”  
  
Miranda nodded. “Your daughter and I have become....” Miranda hesitated a heartbeat too long, “friends over the course of the last year.”  
  
Richard shook his head. “Miranda, friends don't rent jets, leave their jobs, their homes, and fly family members half way across the world...Doug's not here. Lily's not here....”  
  
“Andrea's friends do not have the means to do such at their disposal. I do,” she answered coolly.  
  
Richard closed his eyes. “My daughter started questioning her sexuality in college. It has been a point of contention between my wife and her ever since my wife discovered that Andy had an affair with one of her roommates. Her breakup with Nate and her near obsession with you is the root and branch of my wife and my daughter's recent falling out. So, I ask you again, and I beg you to be honest with me. What is the nature of your relationship with my daughter,” he whispered.  
  
Miranda felt as if she couldn't breathe. “Emotionally, my feelings for her have been becoming something more than friendship for sometime.” She whispered. “But the depth of our mutual feelings only became apparent when Andrea's orders came through and she was going to be deployed," she replied.  
  
Richard nodded once again. “Janet will do anything she can to get in your way. She can't admit to herself that our daughter might be gay. And I know she's suspected for quite some time that Andy has had more than a casual interest in you...”  
  
Miranda nodded and knew her enemy. With that knowledge came anger. How dare a mother judge her daughter so! She was sure in her heart of hearts that she would strive to accept any choices made by her daughters when they came into their majority, even uncomfortable ones. She loved her daughters as she loved Andrea, unconditionally.  
  
After her anger had cooled some Miranda calmed enough that she could think back on what Nigel had said. Remember who owes you and can help. She couldn't quite believe she was about to do what she was contemplating, but needs must. She checked her watch. With the time difference the business day was just starting on the East Coast of the U.S. She dialed Emily at the _Runway_ Offices. “Emily,” she said brusquely, “Go and get the number for Michelle from my business card file and put me through to the White House.”  
  
Being the First Lady with a bad wardrobe was unforgivable with the media sharks these days—Miranda shuddered as she thought about what they did to Hilary in the early days. Michelle had called on Miranda for help and Miranda only hoped that she had gained enough favor to call it in.  
  
After a few interminable minutes dealing with the First Lady's assistant, Emily transferred the call and the First Lady through to Miranda.  
  
“Michelle,” she said quietly. “You'd very kindly said that if I ever needed a favor....”  
  
“Of course Miranda,” the First Lady replied. “What can I do for the Editor in Chief of _Runway_?”  
  
"Michelle,...do you remember my Assistant Andrea? She was at my side during our consultation.”  
  
“Yes, dark haired, pretty. I remember the young woman,” Michelle answered.  
  
“She is in the National Guard. Recently deployed to Afghanistan,” Miranda said, her voice wavering.  
  
“Miranda,” the First Lady answered sympathetically, “I can't do anything about bringing a deployed soldier home...."  
  
“No!” Miranda replied more sharply than she's intended "....It’s too late for that,” she offered more softly, but with a hint of regret in her voice. “I wish to all the Gods she would have considered it. She......she has been wounded...” her voice cracked and she barely withheld a sob,... “Badly wounded....They won't let me see her. I'm.....I'm not her family.....You see, we are more than colleagues,” she paused for a breath and closed her eyes before continuing, “...more than friends.”  
  
Michelle sighed from the other end of the transatlantic call. “I see,” she responded, her tone understanding.  
  
There it was. Out in the open for all the world to see.  
  
“Which hospital is she in?” The First Lady asked.  
  
“Landstuhl Regional Medical Center in Germany,” Miranda answered.  
  
“I can't promise anything,” the First Lady said. “But I'll speak with Barack right away...”  
  
Twenty agonizing minutes later a Colonel and two MP guards entered the waiting area. “Ms Priestly?” The Colonel asked.  
  
Miranda ceased her pacing and turned towards the man. “Yes?”  
  
“I'm Colonel O'Donnell. I'm the Commanding Officer of this facility. I want to apologize for the fact that you've been prevented from seeing Corporal Sachs. It was the staff's understanding that her family didn't want you to see their daughter.”  
  
Miranda offered a small forced smile. “I imagine her Mother still doesn't wish me to.”  
  
The Colonel nodded. “Her family's wishes have apparently been made irrelevant.”  
  
The forced smile softened as she felt the relief fill her heart. “You've received orders regarding my ability to visit Andrea?” She confirmed.  
  
The Colonel nodded once again, “you could say that, yes,” he answered. “If you'll come with me I'll take you up and inform the floor staff of the new orders.”  
  
Miranda followed the Colonel to the elevator, where the two MPs standing either side of the doors snapped to attention. Then a short ride to the Third Floor and a brief walk to the Nurse's station where the Colonel spoke to a Nurse. “Lieutenant, this is Miranda Priestly. She is to be treated as if she is a member of Corporal Andrea Sachs' immediate family.”  
  
“Begging your pardon, Sir,” the Nurse responded. “The Corporal's mother was pretty specific about this lady not having access...”  
  
The Colonel nodded and smiled a tight smile. “Lieutenant, this order comes from on-high. And believe me when I say on-high I mean.....” He was interrupted by Janet Sachs angrily advancing on the Nurse's station.  
  
“What's she doing here? Andrea's mother demanded. “Didn't I make it clear enough that I do not want that woman anywhere near my daughter?!”  
  
The Colonel turned to the upset woman. “Mrs Sachs,” he said softly, but firmly. “I've received orders that Ms. Priestly is to be offered the courtesy of being treated as one of Corporal Sachs' immediate family.”  
  
“I'm her mother!” The woman practically shrieked, “you have no right to....”  
  
“Mrs Sachs,” the Colonel continued flatly, “If you have any complaints you can take it up the ladder with higher ups in the chain of command, but I wouldn't hold my breath. I've spoken with the Commander and Chief, to a civilian that's the President of the United States of America, exactly twice in my life. Once when I was fortunate enough to shake his hand at a military dinner. The second time was about fifteen minutes ago when he personally told me in no uncertain terms to allow Ms Priestly unlimited access to this facility and your Daughter.”  
  
Being the Icon had gotten her here, power had its privileges. But even with what information she'd been able to wrest from Richard she was totally unprepared for the reality as she entered Andrea's room. The shock to Miranda's system was devastating and she fought hard to conceal it externally. There lay her Andrea, badly hurt. A heart monitor sounded on beat upon beat of Andrea's heart, there was the soft whoosh of assisted oxygen and an intubation tube jutted from her lips. Miranda's eyes roamed from the bandaged head down the pale unconscious face across the sheet covered body. Miranda had made a living knowing the drape of fabric on the human form for more than three decades. The sheet wasn't hanging correctly on Andrea's left side. She closed her eyes and swallowed hard and then turned and looked to her nurse/escort with haunted eyes.  
  
The Nurse returned her look compassionately. “They had to take her left arm just below the shoulder. Her left leg just above the knee,” the Lieutenant offered in a hospital whisper. “The chart says that there just wasn't anything to work with as far as trying to save the limbs. The head injury doesn't show brain involvement. She's been conscious and able to communicate since she was wounded. They put her into a drug-induced coma for transport. Don't be concerned about it. They call it a healing coma and it's not at all unusual for it to be used when a patient has been as badly wounded as Corporal Sachs was. The Field Hospital did report some memory loss but that's also not unusual considering the head injury. The brain just sort of shuts down for a while. We'll have to see how that goes once we bring her out of the coma in a day or so.”  
  
Miranda closed her eyes and felt the tears of relief running down her cheeks. Andrea was alive and they were together. All other obstacles could be overcome...in time.  
  
Less than twenty four hours later, the Doctors brought Corporal Andrea Sachs out of her coma. In that time Miranda and Janet Sachs had an come to an uneasy truce. The two MPs that were Miranda's shadows had ensured that. Miranda stayed out of the room when Janet was present and that they exchanged places every few hours.  
  
Miranda was not present in the room when Andy had regained consciousness. Once again it was Richard Sachs that played the guardian angel. Miranda firmly believed if she hadn't been prepared for what was to come she wouldn't have been able to deal with it. He again bearded her in the First Floor waiting room.  
  
“Miranda,.....” he began hesitantly.  
  
Miranda looked up from where she sat, fearing the look on his face.  
  
“Miranda,” he said again. “Andy is awake...”  
  
Miranda nodded carefully, trying to control her breathing, control the fear that was crawling around her insides.  
  
“Miranda, he began yet again. “She still has amnesia.....”  
  
Miranda nodded. “I've been on the Internet doing research. Retrograde amnesia is not uncommon in cases of trauma. It usually affects the memories of the traumatic event. People don't remember being in a car accident and that sort of thing.....” Her heart was in her mouth and she'd recognized that she had begun to babble much like Andrea was prone to do when stressed.  
  
Richard shook his head sadly. “It's not retrograde...the Doctor called it a form of global amnesia...”  
  
Miranda swallowed hard. She had spent her idle hours on her laptop trying to educate herself on the challenges to come. She'd dismissed researches of global amnesia because the websites had all said that it was so extremely rare as to be statistically improbable. Retrograde, anterograde or post traumatic amnesia were much more common so she'd dug into readings on those subjects along with beginning to read about prosthetics and physical therapy for amputees.  
  
Richard looked at Miranda sadly. “She's lost most of the last three years. She thinks she's still in her first deployment. She believes it's late 2006 or early 2007. She doesn't remember anything at all after that....  
  
Miranda's eyes went wide. “She won't remember _Runway_ ,” she gasped...

*****


	4. Chapter 4

Miranda's concentration was shot. She heard only three-quarters of what the doctor said and processed only half of what she heard. A miracle Andrea was alive, her injuries severe but her prognosis for physical recovery good. She was young and strong. Her amnesia might go away two minutes from now and her memory might never return. Miranda's mind dwelled on events from the past few hours when she had been reintroduced to the young woman that no longer remembered her. Andrea's mother had more than an hour with a conscious Andrea before Miranda was allowed to see the woman she loved. More than an hour to pour poison into her beautiful Andrea's ear. She cursed herself that she had agreed to the heinous schedule regarding when each of them would be allowed to see Andrea. Janet had used that hour to full advantage. Andrea met her with cold and suspicious eyes.

On entering the room Miranda was relieved to see Andrea sitting up in bed, the oxygen mask and intubation tube gone. She remembered standing just inside the doorway, her heart sinking, as Andrea regarded her through cold eyes, as one might look at a stranger with a disreputable appearance. Miranda inclined her head and said “Andrea,” softly as way of greeting.

“So,” Andy said, her voice rougher and not as vibrant as Miranda remembered it. “Mom says you were my boss....”

Miranda nodded. “I still am,” she assured. “You are on a leave of absence from Runway. Your desk is there for you when ever you feel ready to return to it.”

Andy shook her head. “Stanford Law School was holding a place for me. I want to go to New York. Try my hand at being a journalist...”

Miranda had nodded, her eyes heavy with unshed tears. “And so you did.....” she had replied sadly.

“And ended up your secretary's secretary?” Andrea said, her tone hostile and bitter.

Miranda was taken aback. Andrea's hostility caused her to become defensive, and becoming defensive she fell back into the her tried and true means of dealing with people. “It seems you've lost your manners with that bump on the head you received,” she answered, her voice sharp and deadly quiet. “You are my executive assistant. It is because of you, because of the work that you do that makes me able to make Runway what it is.”

Miranda's rebuff didn't phase Andy. Miranda could see that the young woman was angry and looking for someone-anyone to blame. She feared that she had lost her beautiful Andrea in body and soul.

Andy shook her head. “I don't know you, don't know what to think!” She replied with rising agitation. “I don't remember any of it!” Then she sighed, her right hand reaching for the ghost of her left arm. “All I know is that things will never be the same again,” she concluded, her tone bitter.

Miranda moved towards the bed. “No, it won't be,” she answered softly. “But I'm......we are here for you. We're all here to help you.”

Janet was at the doorway to the room. “She doesn't remember you or you're damned magazine. Doesn't remember all the impossible demands and the heartache you caused her. She doesn't remember that you're the reason that Nate left!” She hissed at Miranda.

Miranda turned angry blue eyes to the interloper. “We had an agreement.” she said dangerously.

“I don't care about any agreement you forced down my throat. Who do you think you are?! I don't give a damn who you know or what strings you can pull! This is family! You've got no business here!”

Andy watched wide eyed as Miranda retreated into her Ice Queen persona, cold, withdrawn, aloof. The Icon turned to Andrea and in her quiet, precise voice she said “Andrea....”

Andrea stifled a sob, her breathing rapid and shallow. “It's Andy. Nobody calls me Andrea and....I....I can't....I can't do this right now!”

Janet advanced into the room. “See! You're being here is upsetting my daughter!”

“Please,....” Andrea whimpered.

Her heart breaking as she saw the woman she loved in such emotional turmoil Miranda did the only thing she could think of to make the situation better. She withdrew from the field leaving Janet the victor of the skirmish.

***** 

An hour later Richard sought her out in the hospital cafeteria where she sat nursing her emotional wounds. He found her lost in thought, staring into the depths of a cold cup of coffee with her hand clutched around something hanging from a chain about her neck. 

“Miranda?” He asked, as he indicated with his hand a desire to sit down at her table.

She looked up with haunted eyes and nodded once brusquely as the item on the chain was again dropped down the collar of her blouse.

“I feel that I need to offer you an apology for...for Janet's behavior. She shouldn't be doing what she's doing,” Richard offered staring down into his own coffee cup. “It's not fair, not to you and not to Andy.”

Miranda chuckled sourly. “Fair has little to do with anything in life,” she answered.

Richard nodded. “She won't back down. For her, this is a holy war....”

Miranda raised her eyes to his. “She can't possibly imagine that she can reprogram Andrea's sexuality,” she said incredulously.

His eyes going back to the surface of his coffee, Richard sighed. “I don't know what she thinks anymore. I haven't really known for years.” he shook his head. “She's not the woman I married. Not the one I raise Andy with. When she found out that Andy was in love with her college roommate... When she discovered that they were sleeping together, it's like she felt that Andy wasn't normal. That she'd failed as a mother. That it was somehow her fault. She changed after that. Changed so much that I don't even recognize her anymore. Three months ago we'd both had enough of screaming at each other through the same arguments over and over again. She decided to move out. She filed for divorce a couple of weeks ago.”

Miranda sighed. “Divorce is never easy,” she replied softly. “Even when you can't stand the sight of the one you're divorcing..”

Richard nodded sadly. “Miranda,” he began, “what I need is to have Andy caused as little additional pain as can be managed.....You and Janet clashing just exacerbates things. ”

Miranda nodded again. “I am no longer welcome here,” she whispered, looking at the man sitting across from her. “I'll return to New York in the morning...But you can tell your wife that I will sit with Andrea while she sleeps tonight. And she will not interfere. I'm owed at least that much.”

***** 

“Dad said you flew them over here. That you chartered a plane. You don't do that kind of thing for an employee,” Andy's voice was soft, far away, the pain killers and sleep medication the nurse had given her were taking control. It achingly pulled Miranda back to soft loving words spoken just before sleep took them the night before Andrea had shipped out.

“You are more than an employee to me Andrea,” she answered softly as she sat stiffly beside the bed.

“What am I to you Miranda?” Andy slurred, her eyes fluttered shut and her breathing became regular.

“Everything,” Miranda spoke from the heart to the sleeping woman.

***** 

The early morning light seeped through the hospital room window and fell softly on Miranda's sleeping form. 

Andy's eyes opened slowly and found the sleeping woman in the chair beside her bed. Her eyes widened and her breathing became more rapid as she saw the platinum ring hanging on a fine gold chain about the white haired woman's neck. “What are you doing with my ring?!” she demanded.

Startled awake at Andrea's angry voice, Miranda blinked away sleep. It took her precious seconds to organize her thoughts and understand where she was. By the point she was cognizant to answer Janet had entered the room like an avenging angel.

Miranda's hand went to her throat and clasped the ring hanging there. “It's not yours,” she whispered, trying to control the panic that was rising within her.

“It's my ring!” Andy exclaimed, obviously upset and agitated. “It was on my dog tag chain! I was holding on to it so hard when the chopper brought me to the field hospital that it bruised the palm of my hand! What are you doing with my ring?!” 

“You're upsetting my daughter again you bitch!” Janet shrieked. “Give her back what's hers and get the hell out of here!”

“Mom!” Andy started...

“You're nothing but trouble! You've got no business here!” Janet was getting angrier, each word shriller than the last. Andrea had dissolved into sobs. 

Miranda blinked away unfamiliar tears. Her hand went unbidden to the clasp of the chain and opening it she rose and pressed the chain and the ring that hung from it into Andrea's hand. “I'm leaving this morning, Andrea,” she said quietly to the distraught woman. “I won't be here to upset this situation any more.” With her eyes blurred with unshed tears she continued. “I'll be at Runway in Manhattan. She swallowed, praying she could control the timbre of her voice. Not let the pain and weakness show. “When you remember me, when you're ready, I'll be there or they'll know where to find me.”

Struggling to maintain decorum Miranda straightened up from where she'd leaned over the bed. She strode through the aura of hatred emanating from Janet and, with poise, left the room.

***** 

It had been a very long time since Miranda Priestly had cried in a public place. She retreated to a hospital restroom toilet cubical and let the storm of despair dissipate.

By the time she left for the airport at Frankford she was once again the Devil in Heels. This was for the best, she told herself. Andy needed time. Time to heal. Time to come to grips with her injuries. Calm time where she could focus on what she needed to do and not be drawn into a conflict between her mother and Miranda. Miranda, therefore, would withdraw. Leave the field to Andrea's Mother. She tried to convince herself that it didn't matter if she and Andrea were never to be together again. She loved Andrea, and you sacrifice for those you love. Andrea would get well and then have a life. That was all that mattered...Feeling dead inside, Miranda wondered at the fact that it felt like she was the one that had lost a vital limb.

*****


	5. Chapter 5

In a solitary moment later that day when Andy's mother and father were not present in the room Andy asked her nurse for the personal effects that had been sent with her from the field hospital. She was shocked upon opening the plastic bag to find her dog tag chain, complete with a Platinum ring identical to the one that was clutched tightly in her hand.

*****  
  
Radio Communications Specialist First Class Norman Koffman, stood at parade rest in front of his Commanding Officer's desk in a dusty tent in Afghanistan. The C.O. perused the document that Koffman had presented. “So I was hoping Sir,” Koffman said, “that I could get you to sign off on it and send it up levels.”  
  
The C.O. nodded. “It looks good Koffman. You did a good job writing it up. I'll sign it and it can go out with the dispatches today.... A reservist no less,” he shook his head disbelievingly. “She must have had big brass cajones.”  
  
“Has, Sir,” the Specialist answered. “She lived through the barrage. They evacced her to a field hospital and then out of country.”  
  
The C.O, shook his head again. “I've seen the after action reconnaissance photos from the drone aircraft. If she's alive, it's a miracle. That part of the pass was flattened.”  
  
“I talked to one of the chopper crew. He said that she was buried in sandbags. He thought that the first shell must of hit close and thrown enough sandbags to sort of build her a bunker,” Koffman replied.  
  
The C.O. nodded again. “Well Command isn't sure of the body count. They're still picking up pieces, but the number of weapons they've found indicates she took out fifty or more insurgents.” He sighed and stared at the tent wall for a moment. “I wonder what she was thinking up there while it was happening?”  
  
Koffman shifted uncomfortably. “I imagine that she thought she wasn't going to get home for Thanksgiving, Sir,” he replied quietly.  
  
*****  
  
More than a week later Andy was with her father in the rehabilitation suite at the hospital. The week had not gone easily. Pain was her companion. The compression bandages, used for shrinking the amputation sites of her missing limbs where her prosthetics would ride, itched constantly. Rehab in preparation for her first work with her artificial limbs was exhausting and without a heavy dose of sleep meds the nightmare came with a vengeance. To top it all off, Andy's father and mother were barely speaking to one another. She had learned about the impending divorce and had witnessed her parents involved in several harsh quiet exchanges just outside her hospital room door that had echoed down the hospital corridors. They had taken to visiting her separately. The culmination of everything was that Andy realized that Miranda had gone and somehow the world was emptier for her absence.  
  
“Tell me about Miranda, Daddy,” Andy asked as she attempted to walk between the parallel bars on a temporary prosthetic leg.  
  
“I don't know much about her, sweetheart,” he answered carefully.  
  
“You know how it was when I worked for her don't you? Mom said...” Andy started.  
  
“Your Mom and I don't exactly see eye to eye on a lot of things at the moment Andy,” he answered more sharply than he had intended.  
  
Andy nodded and stumbled some. Catching herself with her one arm on the bars, she looked to her father. “I need to know Daddy....”  
  
Richard sighed, “When you first went to work for her she was impossible. She demanded things that simply couldn't be done and then punished her employees for failure. She made your life hell.”  
  
Andy watched her father with sad eyes.  
  
“But you wouldn't quit. You said that if you could last just a year you could work anywhere in publishing. It scared your mother and me, but you changed....grew.... You became more that you had been even when you graduated Northwestern or came home from your first tour,” he continued. “I was proud of you.”  
  
Andy stayed silent, in rapt attention.  
  
“When you wouldn't quit your mother started to suspect that there was more going on than you just being Miranda's employee. He sighed. “You talked about her constantly. And the tone of what you said changed. It went from constant complaining to respect and admiration.” He shook his head. “Your mother became convinced that you'd fallen in love with her as you had with Terry in college.”  
  
“Was I in love with her Daddy?” she asked, her voice small.  
  
“I don't know Andy,” he answered. “Miranda told me that you had become friends, and only more than friends a few days before you shipped out.”  
  
Andy turned between the bars to face her father. Her hand went to her neck and she pulled a chain out from beneath her sweat soaked tee shirt collar. “What about these?” She asked, displaying the two identical rings, one slightly smaller than the other, that hung there side by side. “Did I have these? Have you seen these before?”  
  
Richard Sachs sighed and shook his head. “No Sweetheart,” he answered gently, “I've never see those before...”  
  
*****  
  
Another week had passed. Exhausted, Andy sat in her hospital room thinking back on everything that had happened. She'd been focusing on working with the temporary prosthetics and trying hard not to dwell on the huge hole in her life. She was empty inside. She desperately wanted to put it down to the pain meds and the sleep meds and the injuries and the....but she knew that wasn't it. She'd lost more than her limbs, she'd lost a part of herself. Something important that she couldn't quite touch.  
  
Her Mom and Dad weren't even speaking now. They had given up even trying to be amicable. Silently and grimly they exchanged places during visiting hours as if they were on parade for the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace.  
  
Mom's visits were exhausting. She never shut-up, alternately fretting over Andy and talking about things that didn't matter at the moment. Things like getting back together with Nate. And let it be said that Mom never missed an opportunity to say something nasty about Miranda Priestly.  
  
Dad was better. He was quiet, but he was there for her. That's the way he had always been. The quiet backbone of the family. He sat back and let Mom take the lead on most things. It was easier that way. Less conflict. Andy was aware of how much of her Father's self esteem had been tied up by playing his part in the traditional roles of marriage and family. He was old school. You got married and you stayed married until death do you part. You take care of your kids no matter what. Anything happens you find a way to work it out.  
  
Andy knew that her discovering that she was Bisexual...she shook her head,...no, Gay....she really preferred being with women and now Nate was gone she wasn't going looking in that direction again, had shaken the roots of her family unit. Mom just couldn't accept it and wouldn't face the fact that it wasn't just an aberration. Mom desperately wanted to believe that Terry in college was just an experiment that would never happen again. Dad had been worried and had the guts to say so to Andy face, but he'd quietly supported his daughter's decision after that discussion.  
  
Andy closed her eyes and thought about Terry for a moment. Mom had managed to torpedo that relationship. All it took was one short visit to Cincinnati in Terry's company and Mom made it clear to the woman that she'd never be welcome in the family home. Terry broke up with Andy a few weeks later by moving out of the house they shared with several other roommates.  
  
Earlier today she had received the contents of her footlocker from her billet in Afghanistan. In the locker were a bundle of letters tied with a strip of brightly patterned silk. There were two distinctly different types of envelopes in the bundle. Both were expensive heavy stationary. One set, squarer, elegant, cream colored, the second longer, narrower and marble gray. Both very different from one another. All of them were addressed to her through the Military Postal Service. All of the cream colored ones bore the return address of Miranda Priestly on 72nd Avenue in New York City. The other ones were confusing. Although all were on the same gray stationary, at first glance they seemed to be from different people. Return addresses read F. Halas, D. Alighieri, M. Arnold, C. Marlowe and other names. All originated from the same post office box. All the envelopes were written with an old fashion nib ink pen in a careful calligraphy. She couldn't bring herself to read any of the letters yet. Her rational was that there was too much going on in her life right now to add any more variables to the mix. Deep down she knew the truth. She wasn't ready to face what they might reveal about her.

*****


	6. Chapter 6

_Hell,... I'm in hell,_ Emily thought. Miranda had come back just over two weeks ago and nothing had been right since. Something had changed in the white haired Icon the First Assistant so worshiped. Miranda wasn't herself. She lacked focus, and because of this, things had begun to slip. Paris was just two weeks away and Miranda had let go of the reigns as far as preparation was concerned. The office was more or less adrift and Irv Ravitz's people were circling like vultures. Emily realize that something must be done soon. She made one of the hardest decisions she'd ever faced.  
  
Standing in Miranda's office, she spoke to the back of Miranda's chair, as she had done so often in the recent past. “Miranda,” she had said, “may I have a word with you?”  
  
“What is it?” drifted distractedly from Miranda's lips as she stared out the window.  
  
“Miranda, I think.....that is,... I think it would be best for the magazine if I were not to accompany you to Paris...” Emily spoke rapidly, attempting to tear the band-aid off all at once.  
  
Miranda turned in her chair to face the young woman. “You have wanted Paris since you first came to me, Emily,” she said. “What has changed?”  
  
Emily shook her head and swallowed her disappointment. She did her best to keep her voice light. “Things here are all Topsy-turvy. You need someone here to keep things on track while you're in Paris. Someone that knows what to do. The new temp can handle scheduling and taking notes. She's at least that capable. I feel that she would be better suited to serving your needs while you're at the shows in Paris and I would better serve you here taking care of the magazine.”  
  
Miranda sighed. “You're concerned about me, aren't you Emily?” She asked softly.  
  
Emily stifled a gasp. This conversation was bordering dangerously on the personal and Miranda wasn't likely to appreciate that even a little bit. Still, lying to Miranda was out of the question. Emily knew what had happened to those that had lied to Miranda and she knew that the woman had almost a sixth sense for when people were being less than honest. “Yes.” she answered drawing herself up to attention. “You've not been yourself of late.”  
  
Miranda nodded, her hand moved subconsciously to her throat as if to clasp something there. But her beautiful neck was bare. “I suppose I haven't been,” she answered softly and shook her head. Turning back to the window she sighed. “She doesn't remember us Emily,” she swallowed heavily. “She's halfway across the world, badly injured, struggling to recover and we can't help her because she doesn't remember us.”  
  
Emily didn't understand Miranda's words. She didn't know the extent of Andrea's injuries. Miranda had refused to tell anyone, including Nigel, what had befallen the girl. She did, however, know how close an eye Miranda was keeping on Andrea's convalescence. Emily put the calls of the Medical Staff at the hospital in Germany through to Miranda twice a day and strongly suspected that there was a third call placed to Miranda's home in the evenings. The First Assistant desperately wanted to comfort Miranda in this time of need. “It will get better Miranda,” she said softly. “She'll come back to work when she's ready....and we'll be here to help her get her feet back under her.”  
  
Miranda nodded absently, already again lost in her own thoughts.  
  
*****  
  
Caroline and Cassidy, both frustrated, stared at the computer screen. They were aware that their mother wasn't being honest with them. She had assured them that Andy was getting the best medical care and that she would return to New York when she could. But they were also aware that their mother skillfully diverted any direct questions about Andy's injuries. They were also aware that their Mother had reverted to the sad withdrawn woman that they had known before Andrea had started coming around and hanging out with them. A week ago they had given up trying to get their mother to answer their questions. They had turned to the Internet. It had yielded little. News articles said pretty much what they already knew, Andy had been 'gravely' wounded in action. The Army sites offered nothing about wounded soldier's conditions.  
  
Caroline sighed. “We need help. We need somebody that can hack a computer. Get into the hospital data base.”  
  
Cassidy nodded. “I talked to some of the geek squad at school. The best hacker is a new girl named Roxanna. She's a couple of grades ahead of us.”  
  
Caroline sighed. “Yeah, I've seen her. She's scary. All Gothy, black makeup and lipstick. I hear she's a witch.”  
  
Cassidy looked at her sister doubtfully “I don't care if she's nasty...”  
  
Caroline shook her head violently. “No no, no...A real witch. A Wiccan, spells, reads the tarot, the whole scene,” she replied. “I've also heard that she doesn't date guys...”  
  
Cassidy slumped in her computer chair, “So all we've got to do is convince the spooky new ninth grader to help us hack into an army database to find out how badly Andy was hurt and where she is now....”  
  
Caroline sighed. “You got a better plan?” She asked dejectedly.  
  
*****  
  
Another week had passes in a blur. Pain meds, physical therapy, exhaustion, pain, pain meds physical therapy...This routine only broken by sleep, where the nightmare lay in wait. The nightmare where she felt the jackhammer of an M60 machine gun bucking against her shoulder and knew in a few minutes she was going to be dead by her own doing. The radio was right there and she was going to call down a strike that would end her. She desperately didn't want to die. Life was good. She had so much to live for. So much to go home to. But there was no other choice. The last of her ammo ran out and she reached for the mike. On a good night the Angel came. The Angel was an indistinct, shadowy figure that held dream Andy against her silk covered breast in a huge comfortable four poster bed. She embraced Andy gently and whispered in her ear that everything was going to be alright. That she would love and care for Andrea forever. On those nights Andy managed a few hours of sleep without resorting to medication.  
  
*****  
  
Andy was drenched in sweat and struggling to walk without the aid of the parallel bars. Balance was a problem, but she had been told that with practice she'd be able not only to walk, but be able to run. She'd used to like to run. She was also having trouble with fine motor control of her temporary arm. Unless she was concentrating on it all the time the hook hand opened and closed unbidden at irregular intervals. She looked at her Physical Therapist. “How soon can I be sent for fitting of my permanent prosthetics?” She asked.  
  
The Physical Therapist smiled. You're about ready. I talked to the Head Nurse about getting you on a transport to a VA Hospital near Cincinnati. That's where you come from right? Cincinnati?”  
  
Andy, still struggling, nodded. “Yeah, I come from there, But I'm not ready to go home yet. Can you get me something on the East coast someplace?  
  
“They've got a top-rate prosthetics program at Walter Reed in Washington D.C. How would that work for you?” The Therapist asked.  
  
Andy did some quick calculation in her head. “Yeah,” she said. “Washington would work.”  
  
The Therapist nodded. “With any luck I should be able to have you on a transport by the end of the week,” he said.  
  
*****  
  
It had been a hell of a fight with her Mother. Her Mother had wanted her to come be close to home. She said that her Father and she couldn't afford to stay in Washington while Andy recovered. That they had already strained their finances to stay the three plus weeks in Germany. Andy had held her ground. She told her Mother to go home. She'd come back to Cincinnati when she was on her new leg and could use her new arm. She was going to Walter Reed and that was that. What she didn't tell her mother was why it was important to get to Washington. D.C. was only a few hours from New York and answers about the last several years of her life were in the city that never sleeps....  
  
*****  
  
“…transferred?” Miranda said into the telephone as she stood behind her desk. “Walter Reed in Washington D.C.? Yes, I understand, Doctor. Are their facilities appropriate for a patient with Andr….with Corporal Sachs' injur....needs?” She ran the end of the ear-piece of her reading glasses over her lips as she listened to the response from Andrea’s doctor. “All right Doctor, that is acceptable.” She hung up the telephone. “Emily,” she called out.  
  
Emily was in the room in seconds.  
  
“Andrea will be coming back to the United States in the next few days,” Miranda said softly. “She'll be at Walter Reed in Washington D.C. Please see to it that flowers are sent every other day while I'm in Paris. Also I want to speak to Nigel and the Director of our Alterations Department immediately...  
  
*****  
  
It had been a long flight back to the States for Andy. She had suffered phantom limb pain in both her missing limbs almost from the moment of take-off until landing. It amazed her that limbs that were no longer there could _HURT_. To try and ignore her discomfort Andy had finally worked up the courage to read the letters that had been in her foot locker in Afghanistan. The letters on the cream colored stationary were all from Miranda and they were curiously domestic. They reported on how Caroline and Cassidy, who Andy assumed were Miranda's children, were doing in school. They talked about the antics of someone named Patricia who Andy didn't get was a dog until after reading several letters. One of them involved someone named Emily having some sort of breakdown about something the newest temporary assistant had done and it was quite humorous the way Miranda depicted the situation. They did not, in any way, correspond with Andy having been the harassed, overworked wage slave that her mother had told her she was. The woman who had written these letters was, at the very least a close acquaintance, if not a friend.  
  
The second set of letters, the ones on gray stationary and signed with different names, were of another stripe altogether. They made Andy flush to the roots of her hair. They were, without question, love letters. They each started with a piece of love poetry done in careful calligraphy.  
  
From he letter signed F. Halas:  
  
_Confession_ _  
  
Touched by all that love is  
I draw closer toward you  
Saddened by all that love is  
I run from you  
  
Surprised by all that love is  
I remain alert in stillness  
Hurt by all that love is  
I yearn for tenderness  
  
Defeated by all that love is  
at the truthful mouth of the night  
Forsaken by all that love is  
I will grow toward you._  
  
From the one signed D. Alighieri,  
  
_La Vita Nuova_ _  
  
In that book which is  
My memory . . .  
On the first page  
That is the chapter when  
I first met you  
Appear the words . . .  
Here begins a new life_  
  
The poetry was followed in each letter by decelerations of feeling that Andy felt privileged to have inspired in who ever the person who wrote these letters was. They spoke of a short, intense time together, lamented opportunities missed in the time they had know each other but had not acted on the feelings that the letters implied were mutual and they spoke passionately of hope for a beautiful future in Andrea's company. Andy mourned that she had inspired this level of feeling in someone she now could not remember. Exhausted she dragged herself from the transport plane. Tomorrow the people at the hospital would fit her new permanent prosthetics and she could be rid of these loaners. Tomorrow night or the following morning she could get on with what she needed to do...

*****


	7. Chapter 7

Miranda is off to Paris at last, thank god, thought Emily as she began her morning at the office. As much as she had wanted to go to the shows in Paris she knew her task lay here, at Runway in New York. Miranda was still not at all herself and somebody needed to step in and fill the gaps that the lack of Miranda's normal attention to detail was causing. To Emily, Miranda was still the shining goddess of the fashion world and Emily was her devoted acolyte. To serve the goddess, Emily would stay here and see to the day-to-day running of the Magazine. She shook her head as her thoughts in regard to her relationship to Miranda and Runway spiraled outward. It wasn't like what so many of the Clackers assumed. Although she loved Miranda and would do nearly anything for the woman, she was not in love with Miranda. Emily was gay and enjoyed the company of other women, but for bed-partners she preferred a woman quite a bit more butch than Miranda would or could ever be. Here in New York that had posed something of a problem. Her responsibilities to Miranda and Runway left her very little time outside of work for any kind of personal life and most of the butch women Emily met in the club scene lacked the level of sophistication and culture that she desired in a partner. Although an extremely enjoyable pastime, one could only spend so much time in bed and outside of that one occasionally needed to talk about something intelligent. Emily sighed, well with her work schedule it's wasn't like she had the time for more than one night stands anyway. People just didn't understand the demands a career made on a girl with ambition.

***** 

Military Police Lieutenant Meriwether DeSaix had grown up dirt poor and ostracized by her local community because she was a bastard child. Her mama was a young creole beauty, who, if local gossip was to be believed, had dallied for a time with a white State Senator and Meriwether was the result of that dalliance. She had been blessed, or cursed, she was never quite sure, with her Mama's good looks. With no real prospects apparent after High School Meriwether had joined the Army the day of her graduation.

In the Army her record was sterling. She kept her nose clean, followed orders and she didn't ask and especially didn't tell. She had found her niche in the Military Police discovering that her talent lay in fugitive retrieval. She could hunt down a man on the run the same way her cousins illegally hunted alligators in the Louisiana bayou she'd grown up by. Her subordinates respected her and her superiors fondly called her 'the Bloodhound' because once she was on a trail she had never failed to complete the mission. She, for one, liked her life and had no intention of being anything but career army until they carried her out in a pine box. Her latest duty station was at Fort Meade in Maryland.

Her most recent partner was Corporal T. J. Scruggs. He was a mountain of a man and dumb as a post but DeSaix genuinely liked him. He knew that he didn't have a brain in his head and looked to his officers to tell him what to do. He tried hard to please and he was rabid about following his direct superior's orders to the letter. He was an ex High School Football player and fast on his feet. When a fugitive ran or stood and fought DeSaix was glad to have Scruggs at her back.

She stood at parade rest before her unusually agitated Commanding Officer. It was rare for her to be called before the Base C.O. Orders usually came down the chain of command and her direct superior usually sent her and her partner out on a hunt. She was well aware, as she stood there waiting on the C.O.'s pleasure, that something unusual was afoot.

“Lieutenant,” the full bird Colonel said, not slowing his pacing. “You're good. Damn good. But we're going to have to put just how good to the test. I've just had a very unhappy Four-Star General from the Pentagon on the horn. This comes from on-high. There's a soldier that went A.W.O.L. (absent without leave) about thirty-six hours ago. We need 'em found and found fast. This soldier needs to be standing tall before the Man in,” he glanced at his watch, “ninety-six hours.” He nodded toward a personnel file on his desk. “There are all the particulars. Go. Take your partner. Find the soldier and then take 'em back to D.C. Deliver them to the Pentagon. Ninety-six hours, DeSaix. Fail and five days from now I'll be directing traffic on a bad corner in Fallujah. And if I'm there you can just imagine where you might be sent. Dismissed.”

DeSaix took the file from the desk, saluted smartly and parade turned leaving the office. Passing out of the building she returned the salute of a Sergeant who worked in her unit. “Where's Scruggs?” She asked in passing. 

“In the Mess hall, Ma'am,” the Sergeant replied bringing his salute to a crisp end, “Where else?”

DeSaix smiled fondly as she continued on her way. Scruggs was eating again. Scruggs could eat his way to a gold medal in one of those competitive eating contests. She was careful to keep moving when she was around him, she thought jokingly. Cause if you were still he might mistake you for something to eat. She stopped in the doorway to the Enlisted Mess. A soldier who was leaving snapped smartly to attention and called out “Ten-Hut,” loudly, notifying the other assembled Enlisted and Non-Coms of the officer's presence in the Mess Hall. All inside quickly came to attention.

“As you were,” she called out as her eyes sought out the big man she worked with. “Corporal Scruggs,” she called in his direction. “Finish your chow, grab your gear and be prepared to saddle up. Be in my office in fifteen minutes.”

“Ma'am, Yes Ma'am!” was the reply from the Corporal where he still stood at attention.

The Lieutenant turned on her heal and made her way to her office. There she took a few minutes to pursue the personnel file that the Colonel had given her. What she read made her eyes go wide and she let out a low whistle of astonishment. This was not at all the usual hunt and DeSaix could clearly understand the Colonel's urgency. Orders were orders and it wouldn't do at all to be late with delivering this one to the brass at the Pentagon. If that happened, heads would roll. The records in the files gave her a sense of her quarry as a person. That understanding provided the clues necessary. As the Colonel had said, she was good at her job. Most of what she did was by instinct. She sat behind her desk and closed her eyes quickly putting herself in her quarry's shoes. From there the plan of her hunt unfolded in her mind. 

A few minutes later Corporal Scruggs entered the office with his knapsack on his shoulder. Placing it on the ground he came to attention and saluted. “Reporting as ordered, Ma'am!” He intoned.

DeSaix returned the salute from her seated position and replied, “at ease, Corporal.”

Scruggs went to parade rest. “So, who's the bunny?” He asked.

DeSaix looked up at him. “This one's different Scruggs. This time we're chasing a bona fide American hero.”

Scruggs didn't look impressed. “Hero, huh?” He responded, “so where do we start looking for a real American hero?”

DeSaix nodded, her eyes again reading the particulars contained in the personnel file. “New York City,” she replied absently. “The bunny's name is Sachs, Corporal Andy Sachs. She's A.W.O.L. from Walter Reed and she's gone to ground in New York City. I can feel it in my bones....”

*****


	8. Chapter 8

Andy stood under a Starbucks' awning on the wet pavement of Manhattan on a drizzly morning in October. Feeling trepidation, she looked across the street at the Elias-Clark building. She didn't remember anything about her life in New York. She'd had a hell of a time accomplishing the relatively simple task of finding her way from Union Station to the damned building across the street. She shook her head. _In for a penny, in for a pound_ she thought to herself.She was already in serious trouble. She was now officially AWOL since she'd left the hospital last night without permission and to make matters worse she'd disappeared before completing physio with her new prosthetics or even waiting for her adjustment fittings. If there was one thing Andy could remember in her empty tin can of a memory it was that the Army didn't take kindly to Enlisted Personnel going absent without leave during wartime, even the ones that couldn't fight anymore. She sighed and decided on getting a cup of coffee while she planed her next move. It was going to be tricky but she was determined. Now the only question was: just how did she go about fooling everybody that she had worked with for more than a year that she was still the same old Andy Sachs.  
  
*****  
  
Emily was losing her mind. Miranda had been gone less than a day and the bottom had fallen out at Runway. Things were supposed to be quiet when Miranda was out of the country, but things weren't as they were supposed to be. Irv Ravitz, -damn him-, had ordered an audit the moment that Miranda's back was turned. Emily had been forced into running all over the Runway offices to supply the auditor, -an unbelievably greasy little man in a bad suit, who absolutely reeked of cheap cologne- with what ever piece of paper he was demanding at any particular moment. Emily, in turn, had drafted Serena into service answering the phones and acting as a glorified receptionist for Miranda's office. This state of affairs was entirely unsatisfactory because even with Serena's help, the lion's share of what Emily needed to do to keep the magazine on track was not getting accomplished. Less than a day had gone by and she was already becoming desperate. A week of this would kill her. She would fail her Goddess and be cast into perdition for that failure, she needed a miracle. Emily looked up from her desk and caught the sight of a familiar figure in the doorway. Surely all her unspoken prayers had been answered? She thought with relief.  
  
“Andrea!” Emily exclaimed, her surprised tone nearly joyous. For the first time in weeks it seemed to Emily that the light at the end of the tunnel just might not be an oncoming freight train.  
  
Andy looked at the woman in shock. She had managed to bluff her way past Security downstairs by simply giving them her name. She'd apologized for forgetting her employee identification badge, gestured to her fatigues and explained she was just back in-country on leave. She was very careful to keep her prosthetic left hand in her jacket pocket.  
  
The Security Guard, who's name-tag read Henry, seemed genuinely glad to see her and passed her right through. Then it was just a matter of finding a building directory and locating Runway's offices. She knew that she'd worked as Miranda's Second Assistant. It was a logical leap to assume that the Second Assistant's desk would be in the area of Miranda's office.  
  
What had been difficult was the attitude of the beautiful and extremely well dressed employees she encountered from the moment she'd stepped off of the elevator. They looked at her in her camouflage as if she were something they'd loathe to find on the bottom of their expensive high heeled shoes. With the injuries, the amount of time spent in hospitals, the drugs and pain meds running through her system and the most unforgivable of all; the fact that she was not wearing a stitch of makeup. She was pretty sure she looked like death warmed over.  
  
Now at the end of the hall she locked eyes with a very frazzled looking red head with an upper crust English accent, who looked genuinely glad to see her. Andy braced for impact, as the woman rose from her seat.  
  
In a flash, Emily was across the office floor taking Andy by the right arm and guiding her to one of the desks as, another woman, an extremely beautiful blond, watched her curiously and spoke on the telephone at the other desk in the room.  
  
The woman with an English accent was talking a mile a minute and Andy was having trouble keeping up. From what she could gather someone named Irv Ravitzs was trying to torpedo Miranda by arranging for there to be an audit while the Editor was out of the country for fashion week, in Paris. This had caused all kinds of problems, because she was the only assistant here. Serena, that was, Andy assumed, the woman at the other desk, was helping out, but didn't know the job. Andy listened and nodded as if she knew what was going on. After a long moment the heavily British accented woman paused for a breath and Andy saw a chance and jumped in.  
  
“Okay,” she said, falling back on her military experience. The training she had received as a squad leader made decision making and command come easily. “Here's what we do. You keep working with the Auditor, Serena keeps answering the phones and I'll see what I can do with the rest of it,” she continued, motioning with her right hand to the piles of paper and photographs festooned over what she suspected was the Red Head's desk.  
  
Emily looked at her and for a moment Andy wondered if the woman was going to kiss her in gratitude. Then Emily's face twisted in what looked like disgust. “First thing we have to do is get you dressed. Because you can not be seen working in this office wearing that,” she stated, her tone was derisive as she gestured, with an imperious sweep of her hand to Andy's fatigues. “This is, after all, a fashion magazine. She scoffed. Taking Andrea by the upper arm again, Emily swept her from the office.  
  
Ten minutes later Andy found herself in a dressing cubical in something called The Closet. It didn't look like any closet she had ever seen before. Emily had practically dragged her through racks upon racks of clothing selecting things seemingly at random and thrusting them at Andy. Then she had imperiously pointed her towards the dressing cubical. “Go on then,” Emily ordered. “I don't want to see your disgusting over weight mass changing in front of me.”  
  
Andy sighed and entered the cubical without argument, withdrawing her prosthetic hook hand from her fatigue jacket pocket, she began the arduous task of undressing. First challenge was to unzip the jacket, then undo the buttons of her shirt, finally to unhook her belt and wriggle out of her pants. It took her a full five minutes just to strip down to her bra and panties. She looked at the selection of clothes the Red Head had provided and sighed again. None of them would work, all left her legs or her arms bare and none had any provision to hide her hook hand. There was no way that she could wear any of the clothes, not without the shame of discovery, something that she wasn't ready to deal with yet.  
  
At that very moment Andy looked up in horror to see a well manicured hand slip inside the cubical and take hold of the edge of the curtain that hid her from the outside world. "Don't come in here!" Andy exclaimed, panicked.

“Don't be silly,” Emily said pulling back the curtain back on the dressing cubical. “You don't have anything that I haven't seen ten times a day on the models and they, at least, aren't fat. I just wanted to remind you that I'm still two sizes smal......Emily's words died on her lips and she froze in shock and horror as Andy cowered in the back corner of the cubical, trying to cover herself with a meager short sleeved silk blouse.

Emily's eyes took in the straps and the webbing that held the plastic and metal arm in place. Saw the plastic and metal of the prosthetic leg. Emily Charlton, who so often played the bitch, suddenly felt a violent shift at her core. She knew that Andy was a natural and was better at being Miranda's assistant than she had ever been. She had despised Andy, hated her nearly from the moment that they had met, because of the threat that she represented to her position as First Assistant. In one crystalline moment Emily became aware that Andy hadn't left Runway just to inconvenience the First Assistant. That she hadn't just been out playing at being a soldier. Andy had been to hell and had somehow, even after what they'd done to her, had come back. Here was a woman she had considered to be her mortal enemy; broken. Not on the field of fashion. Not in the petty ways of the 'cool' and trendy society that Emily inhabited, but truly broken by horrors Emily could barely imagine.  
  
Her Grandfather had been part of the expeditionary force that the Germans had crushed at Dunkirk in World War Two. He'd been wounded by a Jerry machine gun and lost his leg as a result. At that time he had been seen as one of the lucky few wounded that had been evacuated back to England. He had married and raised six children, managing to live a rich and full life, regardless of his missing limb. As a teen, trying to fit in with her peers, Emily had become embarrassed by the fact that her Grandfather was different. Angry that he would wear shorts while working in his front garden, showing all her friends the wooden contraption he walked on. In the grandiose way of teenage angst and drama she'd said some things to him that to this day made her feel ashamed. Hurtful things that colored their relationship for the remaining two short weeks of his life. He passed from a sudden heart attack while working in that very same garden. He was wearing long trousers when he died. Emily had never gotten to apologize. She had loved him as she'd loved no other. She'd hurt him and missed her chance to say she was sorry. In that moment Emily no longer saw her rival, instead she saw a broken, fragile young woman, who needed her help and what surprised Emily the most was that she realized she desperately wanted to give it. As a way of reclaiming something she'd lost if nothing else.  
  
Andy was reeling from the intrusion. No one had seen her prosthetics except the Medical Personnel at the hospitals. She hadn't even let her parents see her as she was now. Here she was cowering in a corner trying to hide her shame behind the ridiculously small scrap of silk in her hand, she felt more exposed than she ever had in her life. It was all too much to bear. She shook her head violently and her entire body racked sobs. Tears coursed down her cheeks. “This was a mistake,” she cried as she crumpled to her knees. Her hand brought the silk blouse to her face hiding her contorted features. “There's no way I can come back here,” she gasped, her tone agonized. “Everyone's so beautiful....And I'm......” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I'm a monster....”  
  
Emily was taken aback by the young woman's outburst and she reacted by immediately stepping into the cubical and forcefully grabbing Andy by both her arms and pulling her to her feet. Paying not the slightest attention to the prosthetic limb or delicateness she ripped the silk shirt from Andy's hands and slapped her soundly across the face. “We'll have none of that! Pull yourself together” she demanded firmly. “You've been injured, but your still Andrea Sachs” she said as she gripped the woman squarely by the shoulders. “You're still Miranda's Second Assistant. You can and do belong here.....with us.” On some level Emily couldn't believe what was coming out of her mouth, even though she knew in her heart the words were unquestionably true.  
  
Tears still ran in rivulets down Andy's cheeks. Her voice was no more than a whisper when she said. “I don't remember here...I don't remember Miranda. I don't remember you.....”  
  
Emily was staggered. “Don't remember? How does one forget _Runway_? How does one forget Miranda?” She shrieked rhetorically, in an appalled tone. Emily pondered the situation. The girl had been quite seriously injured. People forgot things from a bump on the head and from Andy's appearance a bump on the head was likely the least of her injuries. 'Amnesia' she recalled as she remembered the medical term. Emily's mind whirled and she spoke without much conscious thought about what she was saying. “That's alright, you were a natural at the job. All we had to train you on was how to dress. We can do that again easily enough. The rest will take care of itself....” The plan formed in her mind. Andy had been able to handle most of the administrative tasks at _Runway_ after only the most cursory of training. This week Emily would use that natural skill while teaching Andrea how to once again fit in at _Runway_. This time it would be different. This time Emily would make an effort to be Andrea's friend and mentor. Out of respect and love for her Grandfather if nothing else. “I'm Emily,” she said softly to the frightened woman as her tears began to subside. “I'm Miranda's First Assistant. We work together, and make this place run like clockwork.”  
  
Andy nodded trying to regain control of herself. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “I want.....I want to know...know everything I can about the last three years....” She looked down. “I can't remember anything after June of 2007.”  
  
Emily nodded. “There will be time for that. Right now, lets find you some long pants and a long sleeved blouse.” She smiled softly at Andy, who was now more in control of her crying. “Maybe a jacket,” Emily continued. “Dior has some jackets to die for this season and they'll look great on you. Now let's get you dressed...”

*****


	9. Chapter 9

A day and a half had passed and things at Runway were looking up. Emily was handling the auditor and had the greasy little man eating out of the palm of her hand. Serena continued to answer the telephones and deal with the few people that came into Miranda's office and Andy ploughed through the accumulated work that the First and Second Assistant would normally do. Fortunately with Miranda out of the country it was possible for one seasoned assistant to nearly keep up. With Andy's natural talent, it was possible for her to keep up and have time to root through her desk looking for clues of who she was when she had sat there.

Emily had informed her that there had been several temps filling in during her absence –each one more incompetent and worthless than the last– so she could not be sure if any of her belongings had been tampered with or not. So it was much to Andy's joy when she'd found her phone book and a day planner almost as soon as she'd sat down at her desk. The day planner had proved quite informative. She learned that her friend Lily had sub-let Andy's apartment for a year and put all of her stuff into a rented storage unit just after Andy shipped out for her tour of duty. The receipt for a year's rental of the unit, made out to the credit card of one M. Priestly, was there in the pages of the day planner. Andy had explained the situation about her apartment to Emily, and once again Emily found herself breaking out of character without hesitation and taking Andy home with her that evening to sleep on the couch.

Emily looked up from her latest culling session of the financial records –where she had been looking for a specific document the Auditor had wanted– she watched Serena as she watched Andy use her prosthetic hand to move a file folder. Andy wasn't adept at using the device yet, but she was getting better. Emily hissed quietly at Serena who blushed at being caught gawking. Emily shook her head and rolled her eyes at the beautiful blond woman.

Serena was an Assistant Editor in the Fashion Accessories department. She was good at her job and probably Emily's best friend at Runway, which made her Emily's best all around friend, seeing as she didn't have any friends outside the work place. Sexually, Serena was as straight as an arrow, which Emily sometimes lamented, but Serena, like Miranda, was too femme to seriously consider for any kind of relationship. Serena didn't have any problem with people being gay. Most of her friends, both male and female were, in fact, gay. Serena herself, for reasons she'd never really questioned, was just hardcoded closer to the hetro side of the scale of sexual preference. Serena was also something of a enigma. She didn't need to work at Runway, or, for that matter, anywhere else. Her family in Brazil was extremely wealthy and Serena had a huge trust fund which would easily allow her to live the lifestyle of the rich and famous. But, she worked at Runway because, like Emily and Miranda, she loved fashion. As far as a lover was concerned, Serena was in no hurry. She often daydreamed to Emily about her dream man. She was looking for a particular type of man, an older and more sophisticated guy. She wasn't looking for a rich man specifically. She wasn't impressed with power or money or things. She just wanted one that would take care of her, someone that she could feel safe and be comfortable with. Once she found him she intended on lavishing her considerable affection and boundless sexual energy on him, basically sexing him into submission. Then she would keep him and they would live happily ever after, providing that the sexing him into submission part didn't cause him to have a heart attack and die. Emily and she had laughed about that idea many times over drinks. Personally Emily thought Serena had Daddy issues.

The thoughts about Serena somehow turned around in Emily's head and made her think of Miranda and this, in turn, brought on a certain dread. Emily was way outside the bounds of their normal work dynamic now and she knew it. She had neglected to tell Miranda about both the audit and about Andy's return to Runway. She hadn't spoken about the audit because Miranda couldn't do anything about it from Paris and Emily had decided that Miranda needed to focus on the shows. Upsetting Miranda about Irv's latest ploy served no constructive purpose. She wasn't sure of why she hadn't told her about Andy. Perhaps it was that she had intended to do as much as she could to get 'their' Andy back before Miranda's return. If Andy could passably do the job when Miranda got back then maybe the girl would have a fighting chance of staying on, and maybe Emily's head would avoid the chopping block for not telling Miranda. Emily sighed and glanced at Andrea who seemed to be on the verge of finishing up the job she was working on.

“Serena,” Emily called out, “Why don't you take Andy and go make the rounds picking up the samples for next week's run through. You can remind Andy were some of the places we get things are. Here are my keys. Go by the dog groomer at eleven-thirty, pick up Patricia and take her home. ” She looked pointedly at Andy. “This is a big part of the job, so go with her and do your best not not to come across as a raving lunatic. You've worked with most of these people for more than the past year remember!”

Andy nodded and got up from her chair. Wrapping her arm across her stomach and tucking her prosthetic hand under the flap of her Dior jacket she silently following Serena from the office.

***** 

The drive from Fort Meade to New York City had actually pleasant. Corporal Scruggs had requisitioned a nondescript black sedan from the motor pool and other that the license plate and a “Be All You Can Be” bumper sticker, it looked like any other car on the road. At least, Lieutenant DeSaix mused, he hadn't requisitioned one of those god awful Hummers, they were the least inconspicuous vehicles ever made and the majority of the fleet had shot their suspensions long ago. They made a short drive on concrete feel like a cross-country sprint on horseback. At least in the sedan she would be able to focus on work and commit the personnel file of Corporal Andrea Sachs to memory without fear of whiplash.

DeSaix allowed her mind to wander over her plan for the hunt as the tall buildings of Manhattan loomed around her. Sachs was a good soldier, her service record screamed exemplary. She wouldn't have run without some planning of where she was going and what she was going to do when she got there. She'd refused to be shipped back to the V.A. in Cincinnati, so clearly she wasn't ready to go home. The Lieutenant imagined herself in her quarry situation. The Corporal was suffering from Amnesia. If it was her, firstly she'd want to know who she was. With three years of her life missing Sachs would know that she would have to start at the end and work back toward what she remembered, hoping that there would be enough dots to connect her to where she needed to be. The file showed that she'd had contact with her Mother, her Father and her Boss during her time in the hospital, so it was a safe assumption that she would have gathered some intelligence before running. It was also safe to assume that she would know that her two best friends had moved to New York City. One worked in an art gallery in Soho and the other had recently taken a job on Wall Street. DeSaix had both their work and home addresses committed to memory. Sachs' last civilian job before deployment was as an executive assistant at Runway magazine. Again DeSaix tried to put herself into the young Corporal's skin, a work desk often held a great deal of information about its occupant. It was likely that she would be searching for some kind of concrete information, facts, photographs, anything that might trigger memory. “Take us to the Elias Clark building, Corporal Scruggs,” she said absently as she laid the file on her lap and stared out the window at the busy street life.

“Roger that L.T.,” the Corporal replied confirming that he'd heard and understood the order. He punched up the address on the GPS and changing lanes he got ready to make the next left that wasn't a one way street going the wrong way.

Twenty minutes of midtown traffic later the two MP's stood in the cream colored Runway offices. Emily was immediately aware of which one of them was in charge and it wasn't from the insignia on her lapels. The woman stood a foot forward of the other soldier with her hands behind her back at parade rest. Emily thought the lieutenant was very attractive, in a severe sort of way, as she looked at the woman standing before her desk. In fact, as her mouth went a bit dry, she thought she was really quite beautiful even without makeup on her coffee and cream complexion. Her raven black hair was cropped close to her head, mostly hidden under that ridiculous floppy fatigue cap that soldiers were forced to wear. Really, that was the only way anyone would would ever put one of those ugly things on their heads. Even in the ugly, camouflage fatigues –similar to what Andy had been wearing when she'd returned to the office– looked so smart and fitted on her frame. There was something about the woman's hazel eyes that unnerved Emily, it was cold yet warm at the same time. Somewhat reminiscent of Miranda's penetrating gaze.

DeSaix had moved up the MP ranks quickly and she was where she was today because she noticed things. It was natural talent. She could glance around a room and describe the people and things in it with ninety percent accuracy up to days later. In this room she noticed the controlled chaos. The desks strewn with papers, in and out boxes piled high with more papers, there were boxes and bags splashed with designer logos scattered about the room. By the desk on the floor there laid an expensive gym bag and designer exercise shoes. Under the other desk –almost out of sight– she could see the unmistakable peek of a pair of combat boots. But what caught her attention the most was the reaction the extremely attractive and sharply dressed Red Head gave to her gaze. and inside, she smiled to herself. She'd hit the jackpot.

"I'm Lieutenant DeSaix," she said crisply to Emily, her voice flowed evenly with an accent fresh out of New Orleans and her eyes firmly on Emily's face. "This is Corporal Scruggs," she continued with a jerk of her head to her companion. "We're with the 161st Military Police Company, out of Fort Meade Maryland. We're here looking for an AWOL soldier by the name of Sachs. Corporal Andy Sachs. I was advised that she worked here before she was recently shipped out to a posting in Afghanistan."”

Emily smiled tightly at the woman. She felt a sudden unexpected urge to protect Andy. Keep her safe from the people that had hurt the young woman and almost taken everything away form her. Emily's thoughts raced a million miles a second as she prepared to spill her lies. “"Andrea Sachs worked here, that much is true,"” she replied, feigning boredom. “"The fact that you recalled her is quite possibly the best thing that has ever happened to Runway. That girl had absolutely no sense of fashion."”

The Lieutenant smiled an understanding smile. “"So, you haven't seen her in the last few days?"” She asked casually, all Bayou friendly.

Emily shook her head. “"No. Haven't seen Andrea for months. Since her last day here before you all took her to where ever it is you took her...."” she answered, continuing to smile.

The Lieutenant smiled at the red headed woman. “"Well thank you for your time, Red",” she said, as she offered Emily a card with her contact information on it. She smiled in a way that made Emily's blood pressure go up a few points. “"If you happen to hear from Corporal Sachs please have her get in touch with us. Being absent without leave only gets more serious every day when she's not where she's supposed to be,"” the Lieutenant continued on, her tone friendly and casual. “"You're obviously busy so we'll just get out of your hair and be on our way."” Turning to Scruggs who was still standing silently as a statue behind her, she said, “"let's go Corporal."”

On the way down in the elevator Scruggs glanced at his superior officer. “"So?"” He asked.

DeSaix's eyes never left the door to the elevator. “"So she's lying to us. She knows where our bunny is."”

Scruggs nodded. “"So what's next L.T.?"”

As the elevator doors opened DeSaix smiled a small wicked smile. “"You're going to go sit in the car. If Sachs enters or Red leaves the building you're going to let me know."”

The Corporal nodded. “"What are you going to be doing?"” He asked.

“I'm going to see if the management of this building loves the people in uniform or not. Red had a gym bag under her desk. "I'm gonna see if this building has a gym. If it does I'm gonna see if management will let me use it."

Scruggs nodded. “"So when the Red Head goes to use the gym....."

“"Welcome to my parlor said the spider to the fly,"” DeSaix said as she grinned. old of the edge of the curtain that hid her from the outside world.

*****


	10. Chapter 10

Upstairs Emily spent several hurried minutes on the Internet looking up what the penalties for desertion were. During wartime they could still execute someone for running away in the face of the enemy and this silly country was still at war. She then frantically called Serena's cell phone. “The Military Police are looking for Andrea, so for God's sake what ever you do, don't bring her back here!” She ordered without taking a breath, then listened to the reply from the other end of the call. “NO! Don't take her to my place. They might already know where that is.” She listened again for a moment. “I know what to do!” She exclaimed. “Leave her at Miranda's when you drop Patricia off there. Remember the alarm code is 2143. With Miranda out of the country, they'd never think to look there.” Again she listened to Serena. “I know its not the best bloody idea I've ever had! Don't see you coming up with a better one, do I!?” She replied sarcastically. “Do you have any idea what Miranda will be like if Andrea was here and then is not here when she returns?!” Emily was on the verge of hyperventilating. “Get her to Miranda's and then tell her to stay put! I'll be by to take care of her and that damned dog after I've finished here tonight.”

***** 

Serena opened the door to Miranda Priestly's townhouse and released Patricia from her lease. The huge Saint Bernard bounded into house and Andy followed hesitantly. “You want me to stay here?” she asked for the forth of fifth time, Serena had now lost count.

“Yes, Emily was very specific,” Serena replied calmly. It was strange dealing with someone you had shared experiences with and that they did not remember. A lot of the time they had been together today Andy had been really spooked. “She wants you to stay here and not go anywhere,” Serena continued soothingly. “She'll be coming by tonight to feed and walk Patricia. She wants you here when she arrives.”

Andy nodded and looked around the huge foyer again. “Okay, tell her I'll stay put.”

Serena turned and started to leave. She stopped and turned back. “It's good to have you back Andy. You were missed,” she said quickly and then she turned and closed the large front door behind her.

***** 

In Paris, Miranda sat, bored, beside another catwalk toward the end of a truly insipid fashion show. The new Italian designer on display didn't have a prayer of making it through next week, much less next season. He'd stupidly spent the lion's share of his promoter's money on glitz and expensive models for his showing rather than coming up with anything new or insightful as far as fashion was concerned. Finally, after what seemed like an age, out onto the catwalk came the crescendo piece. The fashion that should have been the talk of the show and the anchor of this designer's new line. It simply left Miranda, eyes narrowed and lips pursed. Oh, there would be talk alright, Miranda thought. Just not the kind the designer and those who had supported him financially were hoping for.

The organdy yellow dress was as boring as the rest of the fashions she'd impatiently sat through for the last hour. The wearer was not. Arabella Messalina Giovanni, Miranda thought with something akin to affection. The bad girl of the international modeling set. She was unquestionably one of the most beautiful and desirable women in the world. No doubt the focus of several million erotic fantasies each day. The camera loved her and so did the tabloid press for her social interactions. She was gay and aggressively out. A little diva, who was absolutely convinced of her divine right to do exactly as she pleased, exactly when she pleased. It was also said that she was a woman with a fetish for bedding unobtainable women. 

Another of the model's interesting traits was that she would not, for any amount of money, work for any magazine or media agency in the United States. Miranda knew this to be painfully true. Runway, the premier fashion magazine in the world, had been attempting to court Miss Giovanni for the past four years, offering ridiculous amounts of money for a spread of photos or a cover. While Bella, as she preferred to be called, regularly graced the pages of both French and Italian Runway, she staunchly refused to allow Miranda the feather in her cap of being the first American magazine to get Bella to pose. Miranda made a mental note to tell her worthless very temporary Second Assistant to arrange a meeting with the model immediately. Miranda would try again, while here in Paris to convince the girl of what U.S. Runway could do for her career.

Miranda spared a glance at the useless excuse for an employee at her side and again dearly wished Andrea was there instead. Miranda was still keeping tabs on Andrea's recovery, although the last few days had been highly unsatisfactory as far as the information coming from the hospital was concerned. Since the second night at Walter Reed the Hospital Staff had been reticent about telling her anything. All they would say is that Andrea was making progress. Miranda didn't have time in her Paris schedule to twist arms in the United States Army. So unfortunately she would have to trust that they were doing their jobs and would have to wait until she got home at the end of the week. For the moment, making progress would have to do...

***** 

Bella finished her turn on the catwalk and retreated backstage. She would have a few minutes before she would return to stage with the rest of the models at the show's finale. The Italian Model's assistant came bustling up. “Bella, they have assured me that she will be in Rome for the ceremony on the Twenty-Eighth.” The assistant informed her in their shared native tongue.

Bella nodded, as a bright smile lit up her face. “Excellent,” she said softly. “Open the villa at Capri before then and see to it that it is stocked with everything I might want or need. Champagne, caviar, all the trimmings. Then cancel everything for the following month....” 

Her Assistant paled. “Bella, you have two shoots and five shows....” she offered softly, fear showing in her demeanor.

Bella shook her head as she turned and walked away. “Everything.” she said again with a note of finality as she departed.

***** 

The Priestly twins stood behind Roxanna in her bedroom at her parent's apartment on the Upper West Side of New York City. They watched over Roxanna's shoulder as things came and went in rapid succession on a computer screen. The Goth Girl's fingers danced skillfully over the keyboard and her focus on the monitor was almost total. She'd agreed to help them and she wasn't even charging them an arm and a leg. They just had to buy her coffee every day after school. She didn't even demand mochas or cappuccinos. Just a large plain coffee with half and half and Sweet and Low in exchange for her expert help. Over the past couple of days Roxanna had made some progress. She'd managed to hack into the Ohio National Guard Medical Data Base and was hot on the heels of finding Corporal Andy Sachs' medical records.

Caroline didn't think much of the Ninth grader, but she did, however grudgingly, admit the girl's skill on the computer was second to none. Roxanna was something of an outcast at Dalton. Definitely not one of the 'cool' kids, she was considered one of the geek squad at school, but she didn't hang with the rest of the nerd brigade. The Goth clique wouldn't have her because she was a real Goth and not just a poser wannabe like the rest of them and she certainly didn't consort with the in-crowd that She and Cass were part of. Caroline glanced at her sister and sighed. Yesterday Cassidy had painted her nails with black nail polish. Today Cass had styled her lips in a bee-sting pout, her lipstick so dark blue it appeared to be almost black. Caroline suspected the only reason it wasn't black was because Cass didn't have any lipstick that color. She shook her head in despair. She had to talk to Cass when they got home. Messing with a Ninth Grader was a recipe for getting your heart broken, crush or no crush.

“I've got it,” Roxanna said excitedly. Both Caroline and Cassidy glued their eyes to the file on the computer screen. Roxanna, who seemed to be able to read an entire computer screen at a glance, let out a low soft whistle. “Your Andy was hurt....and I mean hurt bad......” she said. The twins struggled to catch up and understand the medical jargon on the screen.

***** 

When Miranda was away Emily often stole an hour after dinner to sneak down to the Elias Clark's gym. It wasn't as nice as some of the upper end gyms in Manhattan, but it had the benefit of being free to employees. As she walked into the room she became immediately aware of the knot of people avidly watching something over near the pull up bars. She couldn't see what had them all fascinated. As she stepped into the group of admirers she saw what was holding their interest and felt her heart skip a beat again.

Lieutenant DeSaix was doing backward pull ups on the bar. She had her eyes closed, and she easily lifted her body, touching the back of her neck near her shoulders to the bar on each repetition. She was wearing her fatigue pants and combat boots but she had stripped down to her tank top undershirt. Her body glistened with sweat as her muscles bunched and released, bunched and released. Watching her move Emily felt something deep in her body clench.

DeSaix felt something change in the room and opened her eyes. She'd managed to reach her Zen place where nothing mattered but the next rep of whatever exercise she was doing. She found serenity there and treasured the moments when she had reached that raised state of awareness. She immediately focused on the red-headed woman. She released the bar and dropped easily to the ground. Looking around she spied the free weights and walked over to them, feeling the Red-Head's eyes lustfully follow her movement. Carefully seeming to ignore the Red-Head, she quickly chose a thirty pound free weight and started doing tricep curls. Emily's eyes were glued to her as she went through twenty quick repetitions. She smiled at the gawking woman as she changed exercises, beginning to work on her biceps. Come on little fishy, she thought to herself while seeing the Red Head come closer, as if attracted by some magnetic field. Come to mama....

***** 

Thirty minutes later DeSaix and the Red-Head from Miranda Priestly's office exited the Elias Clarke building. Scruggs smiled from where he sat in the car keeping watch on the front doors. It'd be good if the L.T. found someone to date while on this hunt, he thought. Scruggs was fully aware that the L.T. was gay. You didn't work as closely as they did and not know something like that, even if it was never mentioned. As far as Scruggs was concerned it didn't make a bit of difference. He knew half a dozen gay people on the base, all doing their jobs and staying below the Don't Ask, Don't Tell radar. Plus, even if he did have a little crush on her, DeSaix was his superior officer and you didn't mess with officers. That was called fraternization and it could land you in a whole world of hurt.

Scruggs nodded to himself. It would be good if the L.T. Found someone. DeSaix, unlike him, needed a connection to people. Scruggs didn't need people. Hell, other than DeSaix and a couple of others, Scruggs didn't even like people. Dogs. Scruggs understood and liked dogs. DeSaix had helped him get into some civilian transition college courses and he was learning how to run a small business. When he got out of the Army in a few months he was going to go home. He was going to use the money he'd saved and maybe some of the G. I. Bill to get himself six pair of pedigree dogs. He had his heart set on opening his own kennel. He wasn't sure just what kind of dogs yet, but he had the list narrowed down. Once he had the kennel up and running he'd find a good woman that also liked dogs. Then they'd raise a whole passel of kids that liked dogs...He smiled to himself as he watched the two women enter the subway station. It was a plan.

***** 

Andy had sat quietly in the front room of the townhouse for the better part of the afternoon. She was afraid to poke around too much. There was a strange familiarity but this was Miranda's house and after all, she really had no idea if she had any business here or not. Still, it was dinner time and she hadn't had more than coffee for breakfast. With the Army looking for her, lunch had not seemed important and had been missed altogether. She decided that she should go find the kitchen and see if she couldn't get something to eat. She would replace it of course...

*****

Another Military Data base hacked, Roxanna's fingers came away from the keyboard of her computer, “AWOL? Didn't see that one coming,” she said in her confident tone, looking at the screen and shaking her head. Both Cassidy and Caroline's eyes were still glued to the screen. “AWOL?” Caroline asked, “What's AWOL?”

“Absent without leave,” Roxanna answered. “It means that she left the hospital without permission and the Army is looking for her.”

Cassidy shook her head. “Poor Andy! If she doesn't remember anything, where will she go?”

Caroline nodded. “We're not going back to Dad's tonight,” she stated emphatically. “We'll go to the townhouse. From there we can call Mom in Paris. Let her know what we've found out. I'm sure that if she hasn't come home by now she doesn't know. And she'll really want to know that Andy left the Hospital.”

Cassidy looked at Caroline. “You know Dad won't let us do that. The Nanny and the housekeeper are on vacation while Mom is in Paris and neither of them ever stay overnight unless Mom arranges it in advance. Dad knows that. He'll tell us to come back to his place as soon as we ask.” she sighed.

Roxanna looked on, amused. “Why don't you both just tell your Dad you're spending the night here? Then you'd be free to do as you like,” she offered.

If Cassidy were a puppy her tail would be wagging, Caroline thought disgustedly. She had to have a talk with her sister soon. Caroline was the one with experience in relationships. She had many of the boys at Dalton interested. She'd also had her share of crushes and even been on a few group dates. Cass had never been interested in that sort of thing, preferring sports to boys. Caroline looked at her sister and wondered if Cass' tastes ran in a different direction than her own. Not that it would be a bad thing if that were the case, she thought, I mean look at Mom and Andy. No, she decided, she would talk to Cass, give her the benefit of her experience. Then if Cass wanted to chase a Ninth Grader it was on her. This Ninth Grader was going to break her sister's heart and she wasn't going to allow that without being able to take pleasure in telling her sister I told you so....

***** 

Emily unlocked the door to her apartment and allowed her guest to enter. Bringing someone home was highly unusual for Emily. Her home was a place of refuge that she only shared with a few friends from Runway. Nigel had come for drinks on more than one occasion and Serena was there regularly.

DeSaix moved easily into the apartment, her eyes taking everything in. It had been so easy to win Emily over and get invited her back to the Red-Head's place. Emily had offered DeSaix a shower, claiming that the temperature of the water in the Elias Clark locker room left something to be desired as did the lack of privacy in the shower room. As DeSaix's eyes traveled over Emily's belongings she noticed the art on the walls. All modern abstract, all vibrant and alive with color and passion. All very much to DeSaix's taste. Music started playing softly as Emily clicked the remote to the Ipod docked across the room and moved into the kitchen area. Fusion Jazz, also very much to DeSaix's taste.

Emily quickly came in from the kitchen and placed a glass of white wine into DeSaix's hand.

DeSaix motioned to one of the paintings on the wall. “Sonia Delaunay,” she said identifying the artist. “I have a few of her prints on the walls of my quarters. She closed her eyes and sipped her wine, then licked her lips which cause Emily's heart to skip a beat and her mouth to go dry. DeSaix, with her eyes still closed, smiled as she listened to the music. “I don't recognize this recording. It sounds like it might be Stanley Clark but I thought I knew everything he'd done.”

Emily was near speechless. Here was a woman that had her hot and bothered all within moments of meeting her and was now intelligently discussing things important to her. Emily marshaled herself. She desperately didn't want to blow this. She strongly sensed the possibilities. “It's inspired by Clark, but it's a local band. They sometimes play at a jazz club here in town, I've been to see them quite a few times,” she answered. “I got the CD at one of their shows.”

DeSaix nodded. “It's nice, I like Clark. I listen to a lot of Herbie Hancock and Chic Corea.” She sniffed and scrunched her face into a disgusted look. “I best shower,” she said. “I must look a fright and I know I smell worse...”

Emily didn't think so, she thought her companion looked sexy as hell and her scent reminded her of the musky body smell you get after sex. “The Bath is the door on the left down the hall,” she said motioning in the general direction of the room with her wine glass. Then she hesitated for a moment. “I can hardly keep calling you Lieutenant. May I know your name?”

DeSaix smiled, nodded and headed in that direction, “Meriwether. I was named for my Daddy's family, only they spelled it a bit differently.....” she answered laughingly as she disappeared through the bathroom door.

Emily stood at the end of the hallway listening for the short time the shower was running. Her mind was a-whirl. This soldier was everything Emily fantasized about. A beautiful and exotic woman who knew and appreciated art and music. Her New Orleans' accent caressed the ears and Emily could just imagine what it would sound like if she could get her to moan Emily's name. She licked her lips, shivered and without over thinking it, she was at the bathroom door. She opened it and stepped inside, finding DeSaix, wrapped in one of her bath sheets.

“What took you so long Red?” DeSaix asked, smiling devilishly at the British woman.

The Soldier was close now. Emily had stopped just outside the woman's personal space. Emily wasn't usually like this. She usually took time deciding who she'd take home and then spent hours after that deciding if she'd bed them or not. With this woman, there had been no doubt in Emily's mind from the moment she saw her in the gym. She leaned in and with a note of desperation in her voice, whispered, “Kiss me...Please?”

Lips only inched apart, DeSaix, looked deeply into Emily's eyes, her own eyes going from amused to sad. Her voice was honey soft and sweet as she said, “Can't do that Red.”

Emily stiffened and leaned back. “Why?” she asked. She couldn't have been wrong. There was attraction here. A spark waiting to be fanned into a flame. She'd give up all hope of finding her Ms. Right if she had been so mistaken.

Lips achingly close together, the beautiful soldier answered softly. “Cause you're lying to me Red. I take it very personally when people lie to me. We can't begin something that might go somewhere important for both of us when you start with a lie on your lips...”

*****


	11. Chapter 11

Unbridled curiosity was in Andy's blood, it was part of who she was. To say that it had also caused her trouble in her life, was an understatement. It was no surprise to anyone that knew her that she had pursued the life of a journalist. Seeing the kitchen had started the ball rolling, firstly by whetting her appetite, then fueling her curiosity to know more about this house and the woman who lived here. The woman who, Andy was coming to realize, had been a central facet of her life. The Missing link, the itch that demanded to be scratched, it was almost unbearable; not knowing. She decided to explore the house. Of course she'd be careful not to touch anything, she told herself, no-one would know that she'd been there. 

***** 

It was late in the evening in Paris and the bedlam of the day's shows had finally wound down. Miranda sat, awaiting the serving of her supper at a private table in one of the city's most elegantly fashionable restaurants. Her dining companion was no less elegant or fashionable, in fact the woman that was, likely at that moment, the most sought after premier fashion model in the world. 

Bella Giovanni sipped at her Champagne Cocktail as Miranda scooped the smallest dollop of heavy sweet cream into her espresso. “So, my dear,” the White Haired Icon began. “I asked you here tonight to discuss when you will feature in my magazine.”

Bella pouted across the table, exuding raw sexuality. Her heavily accented English was sensuous and tempting and her low, husky voice teased with the promise of unspeakable things when she spoke. It made Miranda's heart ache with loneliness. “And I had so hoped you had reconsidered what I had offered at our last encounter,” she spoke, letting the words drip from her mouth like honey. “I'd hoped you were going to ask me to come back to your hotel room tonight...” The Italian woman leaned across the table intentionally displaying the almost immodest amount of cleavage her dress exposed and reached out, to ghost her fingers over Miranda's wrist. “I could make you forget about all those silly men you married...”

Miranda drew her wrist back from the feather light touch, in disgust. Yes, she pined for Andrea. Yes, she yearned for those few nights, where they had pressed their fevered bodies together in ecstasy, she longed to hold her again, while they shared the come down from the pinnacle of pleasure. She ached for the peace, contentment and comfort that those moments had provided. Those things that, for years, she had denied herself but now, knew she needed as much as she needed oxygen to breathe. Denial of need, of self , had been so easy. It had become a habit of long and practiced experience, it was now dust in the wind when ever Andrea intruded on her mind and her Andrea was always with her now. No-one else could or would ever fill that need. 

Miranda's hand went to her throat seeking a comfort of the necklace that was no longer present. She swallowed to regain control her emotions. “Your desire is flattering,” she said carefully and smiled, not wanting to offend her beautiful companion and risk the fragile business deal. “But my heart belongs to another and she....” Miranda froze as she realized her slip of the tongue. She pursed her lips, furious at her mistake. Not only had she admitted to being in a relationship, she had also revealed that it was with a woman. The most damaging part of the whole slip was that she had been so careless as to say it in front of a woman who regularly engaged with the international tabloid press without thought to the consequences. 

Bella's eyes sparkled with mischief as she withdrew her hand back across the table. “Oh, Miranda,” she husked. “You are such a tease. You give me hope...” She shook her head. “But to business. American Runway has nothing I want...Well,” she amended as she licked her full lips, her eyes hot on Miranda's exquisite form, “nothing that I'm going to get tonight anyway...”

***** 

Andy sat on the stairs between the Second and the Third Floors of the townhouse with her head in her hand. She had not continued her investigations after the last room she'd been in on the Second Floor. What was it they said about curiosity and the cat? She mused to herself as she tried to make sense of her two momentous discoveries. 

The first had been on the First Floor in what she assumed was Miranda's study and office. One of the things Andy had noticed about the house as a whole was that everything had a place. The picture frames were perfectly hung, towels in the bathrooms were placed just so, their edges lined up perfectly on the towel bars. Everything was arranged with purpose. Yet there, Andy observed, on the surface of the huge elegant desk in Miranda's office, was a silver picture frame, face down. It sat in a prominent place on the desk. Placed just where, if uprighted, the person sitting at the desk would see it constantly. 

Upright beside it sat a picture in a complementary frame. It was a picture of two red headed twin girls smiling and snuggling into the huge dog, Patricia. Andy studied the photo for a long moment; the scene was happy and Andy found herself smiling back at the image. All the while, the other frame remained face down on the desk as she delaying it picking up, somewhat afraid of what she might find. 

She had immediately assumed that the girls in the photograph were Miranda's daughters, Caroline and Cassidy, who she had read about in the letters from her footlocker. Staring at the photo she subconsciously confirmed to herself that the girl on the left was Cassidy and the almost identical girl on the right was Caroline. It's all in the freckles, she thought with a small smile on her face and a warm affection in her heart. Then, almost like a hammer blow to her solar plexus, she suddenly realized that she was right. She knew, without question, which girl was which. She'd had a breakthrough, she smiled again. It's not exactly memory recall, but it's a start, she thought...

She carefully placed the photograph of the twins and their dog back on the desk and with a shaking hand, she picked up the other one, to reveal the hidden picture.

She was the sole focus of the image. She stood in a magnificent form fitting black sheath, her eyes sparkling and she was laughing joyously with who ever else had been cut from the scene It was a lovely picture, she almost didn't recognize herself; she looked so natural and comfortable. It was, to Andy's unreliable memory, the best picture she'd ever seen of herself. The photo was lovingly matted, framed and on Miranda's desk, right there, next to a picture of her children, she tried to process what this might mean. The frame had been laid face down. But why? Because it was painful to look at? But if painful, why not remove it? Why not place it in a drawer?

The picture had left her dazed and confused. She found herself wandering through the next several rooms in a haze of thoughts as all the whys and hows ran through her mind. Nothing of great significance presented itself to her, as she continued to learn about the tastes of woman Miranda Priestly. The furniture was all elegant, tasteful and expensive. The art and other furnishing were all well chosen for the places they inhabited and she was sure that half of the lovely pieces in this home were actual antiques. Moving into the doorway at the end of the second floor hall, just beyond the staircase she realized that she'd found the Master Bedroom Suite.

She entered the room slowly, peeking her head around the door timidly. She looked around and scoped the room quickly before she entered. Off to the side just beyond the door to the left was another door which Andy presumed led to the ein-suite master bath, She moved farther into the room and passed through a dressing area where full length mirrors lined the walls and door upon door of closets hid behind them. After moving through the closet the room opened out further. But the sight before her caused her to stop dead in her tracks..., The bed had to be the largest she had ever seen. No, that wasn't true, she thought. She had seen this bed before, in her dreams. It was the same bed where she was held and soothed and protected during her nightmare. In the arms of the Angel. But what was it doing sitting in Miranda Priestly's bedroom? It was all too much. Andy's brain was frazzled. And so she found herself with her head in her hand, taking refuge on the stairs of the townhouse, halfway between the Second and Third Floor.

***** 

“Somebody's upstairs,” Cassidy hissed a whisper to her sister as they stood in the foyer of the townhouse just inside the front door. Caroline nodded and reached into her backpack for her cell phone.

“What are you doing?” Cassidy asked.

“Calling 911,” Caroline whispered.

“Don't be a dork,” Cassidy said quietly while looking up the staircase. “The alarm isn't going off. Check the alarm panel and see who used the code last.”

Caroline, phone still in hand, opened the concealed panel and pressed some buttons. “It's Mom's Assistant's code. I'm not sure if it's Emily's or that new one Mom hired when Andy had to go away.”

Cassidy nodded and smiled wickedly. “Want to mess with her?”

Caroline thought for a minute, they weren't supposed to be here, but it truly was an opportunity too good to pass up. 

Moving as one the twins went into stealth mode and made their way up the stairs.

***** 

Emily stepped back from the towel wrapped woman in her bathroom. “I don't have any idea of what you mean...” she said softly, her chest was aching.

DeSaix had felt something too, she couldn't deny it. Something had sparked between them. She too sensed the possibilities but now Emily had ruined it before it had ever had a chance to begin. Ruined it because she'd lied and DeSaix couldn't abide liars.

She shook her head and sighed. “Yes you do, Red,” she answered sadly. “I'm good at my job because I know when people aren't telling me the truth. At the very least I know you've seen Corporal Sachs, but I'm betting you know where she is.”

Emily sighed and turned away. “You don't know what has happened to her,” she said softly. “You haven't seen what the Army has done to her.” She swallowed hard, tears threatened, “She's broken in ways that neither of us can imagine.”

DeSaix nodded. “I know she was wounded, Red,” she answered with compassion in her tone. “And as far as the rest of what she's gone through, I've done two tours over there myself. She'll never be the same. Everyday will be a challenge and she'll need all the support she can get, but it doesn't change this situation.”

Emily bristled, “She's lost an arm and a leg! She doesn't remember the last three years of her life. She's scared and struggling just to hold herself together. What more do you people want from her?” She tried to control her emotions. “You need to leave her here....” she continued. “With me....I can help her get her life back.”

The Soldier stiffened and looked at Emily, who had turned away and was now standing with her back to her. The Lieutenant felt an unfamiliar burn behind her eyes. Is that the way it is? She thought. Is Emily already in a relationship? DeSaix felt a sudden pang of jealousy as she considered the possibility. Was she the reason Sachs had run home? She shook her head, reining in her emotions. She was here to do a job; she wouldn't let her feelings rule here. “She's still in the Army,” she countered. “We still own her. She has to stand tall before the Man in,” she glanced to where her watch sat on the edge of the sink. “About sixty hours.”

Emily was angry now. It was obvious that this woman didn't understand the gravity of what was happening. She clearly didn't understand how important it was to Emily that she make up for all the petty wrongs of her previous association with Andy. “So I'm supposed to just tell you where she is so you can take her back to stand trial for, what did you call it? AWAC? Let the Army imprison or hang her? Or do they shoot deserters here?”

“AWOL,” DeSaix replied flatly and shook her head. “For a soldier with a record like Sachs' AWOL is usually handled as an administrative discipline matter and I seriously doubt her C.O. will ever mention it to her.” She stepped closer reaching out to place her arm on Emily's shoulder and turned the woman around to face her. “My orders are that Corporal Andrea Sachs must to be delivered to the Pentagon in Washington D.C. before eleven hundred hours on Thursday morning. There are a lot of people much farther up the food chain than I am that are depending on her being there. If she's not there, a lot of powerful people are going to be embarrassed. You want Corporal Sachs to learn what it's like to have the U.S. Government pissed at her? You just let her not be where she's supposed to be on Thursday Morning.”

Emily glared at the woman. “And why is it so bloody damned important that Andrea be there on that day?” She exclaimed.

“Because that's the day that President Obama is going to hang the M. O. H. around her neck,” the Soldier answered.

“M. O. H?” Emily asked, confused. “Will you just speak bloody English for once!”

DeSaix nodded. “The Congressional Medal of Honor. I think you all call it the Victoria Cross where you come from,” she answered gently.

“Bloody hell!” Emily exclaimed feeling her knees go weak under her.

DeSaix reached out and caught her before she could fall. “Why don't you go make us some coffee. I'll get dressed and I can explain to you what's going on.”

*****


	12. Chapter 12

The twins grinned at each other mischievously, as they snuck up the Second Floor hallway. It was obvious to them that they now owned the ass of whichever unfortunate assistant was prowling around the upper floors of their house. They would have what ever they wanted from the girl from this day forward or they'd tell their mother where and when they had found her. Visions of forbidden candies and treats danced in their heads as Cassidy stuck her head around the corner and looked up the stairs between the floor their Mother slept on and the one where their rooms were.

Andy sat there half way up the stairs, her eyes closed, her legs pulled up against her chest, her body shaking with sobs. Her prosthetic hand was outstretched against the stairs and her other hand clutched something around her neck.

“Andy!” Cassidy breathed and turned to face her sister.

“Andy?!” Caroline replied, before rushing to join Cassidy to validate her find.

Andy, too lost in her confusion and grief, failed to realize that she wasn't alone.

***** 

Bella's assistant, Lucrezia Bianchi stood in Bella's hotel suite awaiting further instruction. She knew all too well that working for the woman was difficult. She was demanding and at times petty, vain and vindictive, but Lucrezia understood this and the reasons why. Consequently she had lasted longer than than any of her predecessors. What she recognized, that both the press and the world at large missed, was that the spoiled Diva personality that Bella projected was not, in fact, all there was to the Italian beauty. The truth was she was a truly complex and complicated woman who had been broken one too many times. Lucrezia had been there many times to pick up the pieces, when the glass ribbon around her heart and her mind broke. Even thought Bella often treated her like shit in public Lucrezia knew it was all and act and she knew that in reality she was one of her most trusted confidants.

Bella had come from an extremely religious Catholic blue collar family. When she had come out of the closet after high school, her Father, a stern and unforgiving man, had immediately disowned her and drove her from the family home. Her mother and siblings, for the most part, feared his wrath and to this day shunned her. At Seventeen she had found herself out on the street and quite alone in the world. But Bella hadn't given in to despair, instead she'd done what was necessary to become, arguably, the top fashion model in the world.

Lucrezia suspected that much of her tempestuous employer's behaviors, including all the elaborate seductions of seemingly unobtainable woman was her way of denying what her heart wanted most. If you didn't risk yourself on love, never committed to anything more than a very temporary fling, then you never got hurt. But Lucrezia knew that was all a ruse.

The Assistant was pulled away from her musings as Bella entered the suite, returning from the latest Fashion Week party. Her employer looked at her, waiting for her to summarize her report. “The house in Capri will be stocked and ready on the Twenty-Eighth, all of your engagements, both business and personal have been canceled for the month following the Twenty-Eighth,” Lucrezia said quietly.

Bella nodded as she continued across the Sitting Room toward the wet bar in the corner of the room. “Do you know yet where she will be staying while in Rome?” She asked pointedly.

Lucrezia shook her head indicating she didn't know. Inside she just shook, anticipating her employer's reaction. Bella was unpredictable when she was denied what she wanted. “I have been unable to obtain that information as yet,” she answered carefully.”I have made the necessary calls and expect results in the immediate future...”

***** 

Emily sat at her small wrought iron Bistro table in the Kitchen of her apartment. DeSaix sat across from her as they continued their conversation. “So, the Soldier said with a forced lightness, her coffee cup close to her lips. “You and Sachs, huh?”

Emily looked up, eyes wide at the incredulous suggestion. “Me and Andy?!” She almost screeched, she paused and considered the notion, then chuckled which quickly became a fully fledged guffaw.

DeSaix watched with impatience as it took the young British woman almost a full minute to gain control of herself and wipe her eyes from where the laughter had caused them to tear. “No.” Emily wheezed and almost started laughing again. “Andy's not my type.” She looked meaningfully at the woman sitting across from her. “Besides, she's straight. Lived with a boyfriend until about a year ago.”

DeSaix sipped her coffee. This woman across from her even made a descent cup of joe, she thought as the strong hot liquid streamed down her throat. She felt a sense of relief wash over her and was savagely glad that the returning hero was not Emily's lover. It would have gone against DeSaix's grain to interfere and to take this fascinating woman away from someone that had been awarded the M.O.H. That's not to say that I wouldn't have tried to do so, she thought. She carefully placed her coffee cup on the table in front of her. “I'm glad,” the Soldier said softly. “Now, let me tell you about what's going on.” She sat forward in the chair before beginning her story. “As you likely know, the war in Afghanistan is becoming unpopular here...”

Emily nodded.

“It's even more unpopular in Europe. Many countries are withdrawing support and America's political influence and capital has been losing ground,” DeSaix continued.

“I don't need a bloody civics lesson...” Emily said, raising her eyebrows, before reaching for her own coffee.

“Okay, sorry.' DeSaix apologized for offending the woman. “While the initial video of what happened to Corporal Sachs in the Korengal Valley received a lot of airtime, her heroism isn't getting a lot of follow-up in the American press,” DeSaix said sadly, her eyes now fixed to the beautiful blue eyes in front of her. “But it's a different story with the Italian press. From the moment the video broke internationally and they learned that it was one of their Medical Teams she was willing to die to protect they have embraced her. It's surreal, it's almost like their Non-Combatant Medical Teams are as popular as some of their soccer teams. More articles are published every day and each article presents her as some sort of legend with the Italian people. She's a household name in all of Italy now.”

Emily shook her head. “I still don't see what this has to do with Andy having to be in Washington to receive some kind of medal,” she said, impatience laced in her tone.

DeSaix nodded. “The Italian Parliament called a special session late last week. They had a problem as the Italian people want Corporal Sachs' service to be recognized. But they, as a government, didn't have a sufficient level of decoration to award to a foreign national soldier for the level of service that the people seem to feel Corporal Sachs has earned. The Politicians want to keep their constituency happy, so they've created a decoration. The first of its kind ever to be awarded. I understand the Parliamentary vote was unanimous. Something that hasn't happened in a very long time. Sachs, being willing to do what she did to save the Med Team, has bought her, and by extension, the U.S. Government, a lot of political capital in Italy. The American Government can't allow the Italian government to decorate one of our soldiers without decorating her first. And Corporal Sachs deserves to be awarded the M.O. H. What she did was well above and beyond the call of duty. As soon as she has the M.O.H. hung around her neck the Army is going to send her over there to be decorated by the Italian Government. Sort of a good will tour thing...”

Emily emphatically shook her head. “You can't do that to her. She needs to be around familiar things. Needs to be allowed to heal physically and mentally.”

DeSaix sighed and shook her head. “You don't get it, Red. Your Andy is my Corporal Sachs. Corporal Sachs is still an active member of a National Guard unit and that means we own her. She'll go where she's ordered to go, by hook or by crook. The people that are involved in this are so high up the food chain that they don't give a damn about what the woman Andy might need. They only give a damn about the big picture and what it will do for our international political standing. If you try and get in the way of that you're going to buy yourself a whole lot of grief.”

Emily stiffened in her seat and narrowed her eyes. “Are you threatening me Lieutenant?” She asked, an edge to her voice.

DeSaix sighed sadly. “You need to understand that I'll do what I have to do to complete the mission,” she answered. “I will use all resources available to me and report everything that I know because I'm under orders to do so. I'll do whatever it takes to locate Corporal Sachs and deliver her to D.C., before the deadline. If you choose not to help me, I won't hold it against you. But I want you to remember that the politicos at the top of the pyramid don't forget easily. And believe me when I tell you that they're vindictive S.O.B.'s.” she sighed again. “If you chose to remain firm on this, you and I are going to find it difficult to be friendly and I wouldn't count on your work visa being renewed when it comes up again.”

Emily swallowed. Her life was Runway and Runway was here in New York. The price of helping Andy had just increased exponentially.

***** 

Bella looked across the hotel room bar at her Assistant as she prepared two glasses of vodka on the rocks. She smiled an evil little smile, as the wheels of her cunning plan were set in motion, one that a cat who had swallowed a canary and had the perfect plan to frame the family dog for the crime might cause. “In the meantime we must go to plan 'B',” she said, taking a sip from her glass and offering the second vodka to Lucrezia, indicating that she should join her. “The Prime Minister's wife is here at the shows," Bella said thoughtfully. “Find her and make the suggestion that I should be invited to the ceremony. It is imperative that I am placed at the head table during the ceremonial dinner. If she balks at your request, remind her that it would be an embarrassment to both her and her husband if word was leaked to the international press and our Les Liaisons Dangereuses were to come to light...”

The Assistant's heart sank as she griped her vodka glass. So this was how she wanted to play it, blackmail was the method to be use to get what she wanted. The young woman was aware that this wasn't the first time that Bella had stooped to such levels. But she was also aware that this time Bella was much more serious about this...whatever it was... that she was planning. This time, Lucrezia believed with all her heart, that for Bella, this was not just another game.

***** 

Emily rose from the table and stepped away from the soldier, before sighing. She looked her in the eye and spoke with conviction. “You are going to do what you must do and I am going to do the same. I won't help you find Andy.”

DeSaix nodded. “Then it's agreed. I'll do what I have to do.” She pulled out her cell phone and speed dialed a number that she'd placed in the phone's memory for this mission. “Hello, New York City Police Department? This is Lieutenant Meriwether DeSaix, 161st Military Police Company out of Fort Meade Maryland. I have a detainee who is interfering in an A.W.O.L. Retrieval. I need a local cruiser to come by and make a civilian arrest. 90 Bedford Street, Greenwich Village, Apartment 4B.” She listened for a moment and then disconnected the call. She looked at Emily and felt the tension in the air. “I respect what you're doing Red,” she said sadly. “I wish things could be different."

“Don't call me that.” Emily snapped, “It used to be cute. Now it's just sickening.”

***** 

Roxanna sat in her candle lit bedroom and looked at the complex spread of tarot cards laid out on the table before her. She had questions and now she sought the answers. The cards were her tools, she believed in them and they hadn't let her down yet. She wanted to know if Cassidy Priestly was one of those mean girls, the ones that should be avoided at all cost.

Roxanna was all too familiar with that particular breed. She had always been different and always ostracized by her classmates. At her last school, during the academic year, one of the popular clique and taken an interest in her. She made Roxanna think she was special. Made her think she was loved. Sexually the girl had wanted to go way too far way too fast and when Roxanna had rebutted her advances the girl had outed her to the entire school and quickly turned all the kids against her. The aftermath was the longest five months of her young life until the school year ended. Then, over the Summer, fortunately, her Father's job moved them again, this time to New York City. It was the ninth move in Roxanna's fifteen years of life.

As Roxanna thought about what had happened she knew that sex would eventually become an important part of her life, she'd had that painfully awkward sex talk with her parents. The thought of kisses, cuddles and dreamy walks holding hands filled her with a warm fuzzy feeling in her stomach. But she knew she wasn't ready for anything heavy yet.

She laid another card down. The reading indicated that Cassidy was interested in her, a true promise, no false masks. Roxanna nodded and smiled. That was okay with her. Cassidy's interest from day one had been intoxicating, Recently the girl had begun to change her look, choosing to demonstrate her originality and creativity in Roxanna's style. Well, the young Goth considered, they say that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. She made up her mind, next time Cassidy came over Roxanna would offer to read for her and see if their destiny was really written in the cards.

***** 

The one of the uniformed cops from the cruiser handcuffed Emily while the other read out her rights in the foyer of her apartment. Emily watched as DeSaix stood silently by. The British woman hadn't said much since DeSaix had called the police fifteen minutes ago. When they had arrived she had admitted to the officers that she would not do anything to aid the investigation in ascertaining the of the location of the AWOL soldier.

As the Police Officers walked Emily down the stairs past many of her nosy neighbors DeSaix pulled out her cell phone and called Corporal Scruggs. “Pick me up in front of 90 Bedford Street in Greenwich Village,” she ordered curtly and snapped her phone shut. She took a breath and leaned against the wall of the apartment building. Sometimes the demands of the mission just weren't fair. She considered. Emily had a point, she didn't deny that. Sachs had called all the fires of hell down on herself to save the lives of innocent people she didn't know from Adam. She was about to be awarded the M.O. H. for demonstrating valor and selflessness beyond the reaches of sanity. DeSaix thought about putting herself in Sachs' shoes, she wondered if she could muster under similar circumstances. Now the Politicos were intent on using this wounded, broken hero for an agenda that really had no regard for her wants or needs. DeSaix shook her head. For the first time in her career she found herself questioning her direct orders and the decision she'd made. But it was done and it was time to refocus on the objective. She glanced at her watch and then looked impatiently up the street. Where the hell was Scruggs? She needed to get to the police station. Red would crack, the stark reality of the booking process would break her. In just a few hours tops DeSaix would know where her little Bunny was. Then she could get the hell out of New York City, complete this God forsaken mission and chalk up another success. She sighed softly. Red and I could have been good together, she thought wistfully.

*****


	13. Chapter 13

Curled up and seated on the stairs, Andy found herself lost in a maze of confusion and despair. She had no idea how long she had been there when the unexpected interruption came and ripped her from her self made cocoon of pity. A gentle hand, warm and soft, gripped her's and seemingly out of nowhere arms encircled her slumped shoulders with a ferocity. Startled, she looked up to see the face of the young girl wrapped around her shoulders. There was no mistaking it, the girl was one of Miranda's daughters. The young girl had her eyes scrunched tightly shut and a lone tear ran down her beautifully freckled cheeks. Perhaps it was the freckles or perhaps it was in the warmth of her touch, that had brought it back to her. Andy didn't know how she knew this girl's name, but she did. “Cassidy,” Andy croaked, as her voice was suddenly rough with tears.The hug became crushing as Cassidy's, eyes sprung open and she tightened her grip. Turning her head Andy laid her eyes on the other twin, who was holding her hand and instantly felt the instinctive recognition fill her heart as her name formed on her lips. Andy managed a small smile as she caught the solemn look on the girl’s face.“Caroline, sometimes you're so much like your Mother it's scary...”  
  
Both girls startled, as did Andy. “You remember!” shrieked Cassidy, as the hug became tighter still.  
  
Andy shook her head in disappointment. “No, ... No, I don't,” she replied. “I saw a picture and somehow I knew who you were, and now I somehow know that Caroline is a lot like her Mother.”  
  
Caroline smiled softly, gently running her fingers over the back of Andy's hand. “But it's more than that...you knew how to tell us apart! Without doubt! Is it the first thing you've remembered?” She almost whispered.  
  
Andy nodded, with tears brimming in her eyes.  
  
Caroline suddenly released Andy's hand and she was caught up in a mirror embrace, both twins clinging tightly to her. “That's so awesome,” Caroline whispered as Cassidy whispered “You're home,” over and over again.  
  
*****  
  
Serena hung up the phone and looked around the _Runway_ office in frozen shock. Emily had been arrested. She was going to be held overnight and would be arraigned in the morning. Serena blanched. That meant that until Emily was released, that she was in charge of keeping _Runway_ afloat. “Oh my God!” Serena breathed. Miranda would be calling sometime this evening; the first number she would dial would be Emily's cell phone. What would happen if she didn’t answer that call? Or what if Emily had kept her cell phone in jail? No, she thought, that was just silly. When you were arrested they only give you one phone call, she’d seen that on all the police TV shows. So, Miranda would definitely not be able to contact Emily! Serena sighed and glanced at the couch in Miranda's office. She knew where she was spending her night. Now, first things first, she needed to find Emily a lawyer.  
  
*****  
  
Bella Giovanni sat in a sidewalk café with her freshly brewed, scalding cup of cappuccino before her and as usual the hundreds of sets of adoring eyes that watched her every move. Strangely, even in this crowd, she had never felt more alone. She had always had her pick of women. They would line up for her and fall at her feet, but for a long time she had been bored with the gushing masses. She had taken to playing games and amusing herself by only pursuing the unobtainable. The straightest of women, married women or even those bound by religion. She would seduce them into her bed with little effort. For awhile it had held its amusement, but ultimately it was unsatisfying. The flings, if that’s what one could call them, lasted days, weeks, or if they were special, maybe a month, but she soon grew tired of them. This time was different, the seduction now had a greater purpose than her immediate amusement. She pondered for a moment whether she could really settle down. Could she take one partner for the rest of her life? Just one lover in her bed, night after night? Would she tire with just one woman to pamper and to make happy? Could she remain faithful and risk of losing her own happiness? Her mother had been unhappy with her father. It was a traditional Italian marriage, bound by the Catholic church. Mama had stayed because god had decreed it. Could she do that? Her brain told her no but her heart longed to disagree. She reached for her neck and dipped her fingers below her collar line, pulling out the locket that she always wore when she was not modeling. Opening the clasp, she reverently kissed the picture inside. “Don't worry il mio picclo amore,” she whispered to the image. “It will all be alright. The Twenty-Eighth is just days away now. I'll leave the shows Friday evening and return to Rome. When you can finally come home you will see that all is well ....”  
  
*****  
  
Miranda was not amused. Her patience was being more than tested. The latest, in a string of many calls to Walter Reed Hospital had been less than satisfactory and now Emily was not answering her cell phone. She had a profound feeling that something was not right and with her feet tied to Paris, she felt out of control. If it weren't for the fact that this was the most important week of her year, no, scratch that, the most important week of the magazine's year, then she would have been on a plane hours ago. She took a deep breath and allowed herself to smile as she recalled the most important week of her life this year. The beautiful memories of the short time she and Andrea had spent together filled her thoughts. But it wasn't long before the sadness took over once again and she thought of how her lover had been ripped away from her and forever changed in a war that should never have started in the first place. She glared at the telephone, demanding it to ring with some answers. _Someone is going to pay for this_ , she thought darkly as she picked up the phone and dialed the office number.  
  
*****  
  
Richard Sachs had grown tired of pacing. His daughter had disappeared or gone AWOL as the Army had politely informed him. The Ohio National Guard had sent an MP around to the house to check if she'd come home. She hadn't and even though he had assured the Army of that fact he wasn't quite sure that they believed him. Richard walked into his bedroom and, without conscious thought, pulled his suitcase from under the bed and tossed it onto the mattress. Opening dresser drawers, he began to pile the stacks of clothing into the case, without any due care or attention. All he cared about was getting on the next flight to New York. It was only as an afterthought that he considered his estranged wife, he knew he should call her, purely for Andy's sake, in case she came home and there was no-one there.  
  
*****  
  
After several very emotional moments Caroline had managed to calm enough to move them all in their still huddled form to the Playroom on the third floor. With the three of them sitting on the comfortable couch, but the two girls still maintaining their close physical contact to Andy, Caroline spoke. “I know you don't remember now, but you always knew which of us was which. From right after the first time we met.”  
  
Andy was still a little shell shocked from recalling another tiny piece of memory, After a few moments she looked up and spoke softly. “Why is that so important to you, Sweetheart?” She asked. “It's obvious that you two are as different as night and day.”  
  
Cassidy hugged her fiercely again before explaining why it mattered so. “Stephen, Mom's ex-husband, lived with us for three years and he could never tell us apart. Our teachers at school can't tell us apart. Our friends have trouble knowing which of us is approaching them in the halls. Even our own Father guess which one of us is which and half the time he's wrong.” Cassidy whispered gently, close to Andy's ear and Andy could hear the sorrow tinged in her young voice.” “But like Mom, you've always know us. We are very much individuals and you have always known each of us as separate.”  
  
Andy looked at Cassidy's adoring worried face and shrugged. “I guess I do,” she answered softly. "It seems to be one the few things I'm sure of.”  
  
Caroline continued to watch Andy closely, studying the tired lines around the eyes and the fading scrapes and bruises still on show. “So you remembered where our house is,” she said hopefully. “And the alarm code. So that must mean something? I mean, you're here.”  
  
Andy shook her head. “No,” she replied. “I have Emily to thank for that. You see I left the Army without permission, Which is against the rules and now they are looking for me.”  
  
Cassidy's eyes went wide. “Emily knows you're here?” She squeaked as her voice filled with worry. She glanced over to her sister, seeking the guidance she needed to continue.  
  
Caroline moved in closer and took control of the situation. “We need to get you out of here,” she said, letting urgency color her tone. “We must find you some other place to stay.”  
  
Andy looked incredulously at the two girls. She was coming to realize, at lightening speed, that they were the center of her world, the pivot point in a time that she couldn't quite remember. But her heart told her it was a time she longed to get back to. She let their words mull over in her head and realized that their panic was over Emily. For some reason they didn’t seem to trust her. “Girls, what is is this about? Emily has been wonderful,” she said softly, obviously confused by this turn of events. “We must have been great friends before this happened to me.”  
  
Cassidy shook her head in violent disagreement and Caroline rose from the couch and took Andy by the hand trying to make her get up too. “Emily hates you.” Caroline said vehemently. “She's been jealous of you from day one and she wanted nothing more than to see you fired ever since you went to work for Mom. If she knows you're here she'll likely tell on you. Tell the Army where you are so they can come take you back. We have to find a place to hide you!"  
  
Andy felt tears in her eyes again. It wasn't fair. She couldn't remember, but Emily couldn't be so duplicitous could she? Emily hadn't even flinched when she'd seen what Andy had become. She'd just spoken softly and with care. She'd helped her dress and other than a few really snarky comments...Andy knew that even with her current loss of memory she still was a good judge of character and she just refused to believe that Emily hadn’t been 100% genuine with her. She looked down at the floor and then closed her eyes. Her mind flashed images of Emily, some from the past few days and some from another time. She recalled the pain she’d felt after being on the receiving end of sharp barbs from the English woman's tongue. Was it true? Did Emily really hate her? Andy's heart sank as she felt a large piece of the foundation she thought she was building slip away. She had never felt more alone than in that moment. She looked up at the girls and barely whispered her defeated words. “Get me out of here… Please.”  
  
*****  
  
As the plane left the Cincinnati Runway Richard Sachs closed his eyes and tried to doze. He knew he would need all the energy he could muster when he got to his destination. The drive to the airport hadn't been too bad, traffic was light and the weather had been calm. He was also pleased to find that the next scheduled flight to New York City was in just over an hour, so he didn't have to wait in the airport terminal very long before boarding. This trip would stretch his finances some. His savings were mostly depleted after paying for both his and his soon to be ex-wife's expenses and return tickets from Germany. But this kind of situation was what credit cards were for, to use in emergencies. And if this couldn't be classified as an emergency, he didn't know what could.  
  
Thinking of depleted savings accounts lead him to recall another time when money had been tight. There had been some downsizing at the firm, late in Andy's junior year in high school and he was one of the casualties. He was out of work for more than a year, there wasn't much call for an Attorney of Corporate Law in their small town, hence the downsizing of the company and it meant he had to look farther afield. The family had been forced to use Andy's college fund to survive the loss of income and keep up the minimum payments on their mortgage. Andy never said a word about that, not one single complaint or recrimination. She had even insisted that the little bit of money she was earning as a waitress working after school and on weekends go to help the family. Andy was so unlike his soon to be ex-wife. Janet had blamed him for everything, their loss of income and status. Blamed him for their little girl being forced to join the National Guard in order to make her college dreams become a reality. She even blamed him for supporting Andy's choices when she was discovering who she was, what she wanted to do with her life and what her sexuality was. It was a wonder that he hadn't seen just how toxic Janet had become some time ago. He shook his head and forced his thoughts back to the matter at hand.  
  
He'd was going to New York, he knew that's where Andy would go. His little girl wanted her life back. His plan was that he'd go and see Miranda, she'd been treated badly in the Hospital in Germany he needed to apologize and hopefully regain her trust and support in helping his daughter. She had said she cared for Andy, maybe between them they could figure out where she might be and help her find the life she'd lost.  
  
*****  
  
DeSaix sat on an uncomfortable chair in the 6th Precinct. The Police Station's lukewarm bad coffee in her hand was reminiscent of the coffee made in the MP Command Center at any posting she'd ever been assigned too. After the arrest, she'd sent Scruggs out to see Corporal Sachs' two friends Lily Freedman and Doug Chambers. He had reported back that neither of them had seen her and he had no reason to doubt that they were telling him the truth. Lily had given him the telephone number of Corporal Sachs' ex-boyfriend who now lived in Boston. On the off chance that she went running to him DeSaix decided to give him a call while she was waiting at the Precinct. Not reaching him at his residence, she tried where he worked. Her first and final impression was that he was an ass. He'd been more worried about whether his new girlfriend had answered the phone when DeSaix had called his home—it seemed, she was the jealous type— and what kind of trouble he was going to get at home. He didn’t seem to care why a stranger was calling about the fact that his ex-longterm-girlfriend had bumped her head and now couldn't remember a large part of her life and now she was no-where to be found. He claimed he hadn't heard from her either. _It's no wonder Sachs dumped your sorry ass_ , DeSaix thought, as she hung up the phone.  
  
She sighed and closed her aching eyes for a brief moment. Red hadn't cracked as she had thought she would. She'd allowed them to finger print her, take her mug shots and lock her in a holding cell without any fuss. In the interview room, they had demanded, again and again, that she tell them where Corporal Sachs was. But all she had answered was, 'no, shan't' and “not bloody likely.” Now the stubborn English woman would spend the night in jail and in the morning she'd go before a judge. The judge would likely order her to comply and tell DeSaix where Corporal Sachs was. If Red refused she'd likely be held in contempt of court which meant that the judge could lock her up until she told him what he wanted to know. DeSaix really hoped she would. Her neck was on the line with her superiors if she let this drag out any longer. But surely, Red was just being stubborn. A night spent in a holding cell with hookers and junkies and she'd break, she’d be begging to tell what she knew. This was just another mission and tomorrow morning DeSaix would still have about forty-eight hours to deliver Sachs to the Pentagon. The Lieutenant felt sick to her stomach, she tried to convince herself that it was the coffee but deep down she knew it was her conscience.  
  
*****  
  
Serena wanted to earth to open up and swallow her whole. The call with Miranda had not gone well, she was convinced that as soon as Miranda returned from Paris that she would be fired. She was sure that Miranda was currently planning some kind of execution for her. Still, Emily and Andy were her friends and one did what one must do for friends. She didn’t have the first idea how to tell Miranda that Emily had been arrested. And Emily had insisted that they would not to tell Miranda about Andy's return or about the surprise audit that Irv Ravitz had sprung on them. So Serena had done what she could. Basically, she'd lied her beautiful behind off! She had told Miranda that Emily had been caught unaware by some opportunistic purse snatcher as she had left the subway. Her cell phone and keys had been taken and now Emily was out of the office, reporting the incident, canceling the old phone and getting a new one. Serena had been so caught up in the lie she hadn’t realized that an impatient— or bored, Serena could never tell— Miranda had hung up on her.  
  
*****  
  
The Prime Minister's Wife paled as Bella Goivanni's assistant Lucrezia Bianchi delivered her employer's verbal missive. Ruin was staring the woman in the face all because she had been weak and allowed that demoness to seduce her. The threat was real, her husband would divorce her and she'd be publicly shamed. “She wouldn’t dare....” she breathed her words in rapid succession and reached out to grab the nearest chair before her legs gave out.  
  
Lucrezia saw the woman stumble and thought fast. She caught her by the hands and maneuvered her gently into a chair. “My employer seemed most intent on being invited to the celebration surrounding the ceremony. Perhaps if you could arrange....” she said, in her most reasonable diplomatic tone.  
  
“Of course! Of course!” The woman exclaimed. “I will see to her invitation myself.”  
  
Lucrezia nodded. “She has insisted on a seat at the head table, close to the guest of honor....”  
  
*****  
  
“But Bella,...Darling...” the Designer whined. “You can't cancel. You are to be the highpoint of the show on Saturday, besides, we have a contract...”  
  
Bella looked at the contemptible little man. “I will be in Rome on Saturday.” _Nothing will stop me from being there_ , she thought with clenched teeth. “And don’t try to pursue legal action. My lawyers would eat you alive. And if you do, be assured that I will never wear any fashion from your studio ever again,” Her voice was quiet but filled with deadly intent.  
  
*****  
  
The Twins stood with Andy on the subway platform waiting for the train. Andy, who was lost in her own thoughts, kept her head down and remained quiet.  
  
“So,” Caroline hissed quietly, “what now?”  
  
Cassidy looked to her sister. “I thought you had a plan.” she squeaked.  
  
Caroline shook her head. “I just knew we needed to get away from the townhouse. Evil Emily has probably already told the Army exactly where Andy is and they are probably arriving on mass as we speak! There’s probably helicopters and men in masks with guns and everything!  
  
Cassidy grinned at her twin’s unique eloquence. “We still need a plan,” she said softly, looking at her sister. “I know! I'll call Roxanna, she'll have an idea of what to do.”  
  
Caroline just rolled her eyes.

*****


	14. Chapter 14

Nigel had been summoned. He’d never heard his employer sound as tense as she had when he'd been called to the telephone and so he left the show immediately to return to the hotel. During the short car ride he thought about the last few months. Miranda had not been herself at all, not since Andy had been hurt. It had been more than a month since she had been injured, and as far as he knew she was still in some hospital. It was worrying that Miranda didn't speak of Andy, not even to him, especially as he considered himself the closest thing to a friend she had. The stress was getting to her and the cracks were beginning to show. It wouldn’t be long before Irv made his move and with her current state of mind Miranda wouldn’t stand chance against the opportunistic little rat. The winds of circumstance were not blowing in the right direction, in fact, as far as Nigel was concerned it just whirling dervish of chaos. Arriving at the hotel he quickly made his way to Miranda's room. He knocked and opened the door without waiting for an answer. From her tone on the phone it was no surprise to see Miranda pacing the room like a caged lioness. He marveled at the coiled tension in her frame and he certainly did not envy whoever had put it there. “You wanted to see me?” He'd asked reservedly.

Miranda stilled and turned to him. “I need you to go back to New York. I want you to go tonight...”

Nigel waited silently for more of an explanation.

Miranda sighed. Her tone was tightly controlled. “Something has happened back at the office. I can't reach Emily and Serena is being unusually evasive,” she took a deep breath and continued.“I would go myself of course, but you know I must be here for the final shows, the paparazzi would have a field day if I left now. That would just be the icing on the cake for Irv, he would crucify me with the board of directors.” Nigel watched Miranda’s feature soften slightly. “If I can not go, then I need you to go and make sure everything is alright. You’re the only one I trust.”

Nigel’s mind had been working ten to the dozen ever since she had mentioned Emily. Not being able to contact Emily put up a huge red flag in his opinion, no wonder Miranda was concerned. He had to admit that he felt some disappointment to be going home so soon and that he would miss some of the biggest shows. But she needed him and knew he would never let her down. Nigel pursed his lips and nodded resolutely. “I'll go pack what I need and see about getting a flight,” he said, before heading for the door.

*****

It was a nondescript hotel room in a rundown old midtown hotel. Two stars at best, but it was what the girls could afford with what they had left of allowance, birthday and Christmas money. They'd pooled their funds and had enough to manage four days rental for Andy to stay hidden. That would get them to Saturday and then they only had one day to worry about until Mom got home late Sunday afternoon. Cassidy had convinced Caroline that they would just have to work their magic on their Father to wheedle the rest of what they needed when they went back to his place that night. Roxanna had been the savior of the hour; Caroline had been forced to admit. She'd had a ready plan, even suggesting the particular hotel. Not to upscale, not to downscale, she'd explained, a place that saw thousands of tourists and cheap business men every month. It was probably best described as a place where, with a little bit of effort, someone could go unnoticed. With all the money gone to rent the room, with Andy not having any luggage, the desk clerk had insisted on cash in advance, feeding Andy over the next several days was an issue. Roxanna had an answer for that too. She’d suggested that they would just stock up from food in the townhouse refrigerator and pantry or from Roxanna's parent's kitchen.  
*****

The night in the cell had been a horrible experience. Emily didn’t sleep well in general, not with the fear of missing a call from Miranda. But now with a new fear of being molested by the less than reputable women that shared the close confines with, she hadn’t slept a wink. She had spent most of the night fending off the lewd touches and crude comments about just exactly how they were going to make her their bitch. She was actually quite relieved when morning finally came, even if she did have to stand alone, before the judge.

After an uncomfortable wait, Emily had resigned herself to the fact that the lawyer that Serena had called was not going to appear. She was now faced with having to defend herself in a judicial system that she didn’t fully understand. “With all due respect, no, your Honor,” she said succinctly, as she held her head high. “The Army has done quite enough to Andrea Sachs. I will not help them find her. Lock me up if you feel you must, Sir. But I simply I will not cooperate...”

DeSaix, had sat quietly in the back of the courtroom waiting impatiently to retrieve the necessary information that the judge would force from Emily. As soon as she heard the words leave Emily’s mouth she felt the bile rise in her throat and she quickly fought to compose herself.

*****

Corporal T.J. Scruggs knew he was not the brightest bulb in the box, but he rarely made the same mistake twice. He watched and he learned. Occasionally—by shear dumb luck—he’d stumble onto a good idea, today just had to be one of those days. He'd decided to stake out the Priestly residence. He considered all the things that Ms Priestly had done for Corporal Sachs’ that were detailed on the case log. She’d had flown to Germany to see her, she’d arranged for a private room and she’d made daily calls to the hospital in Washington where she had been in recovery. He though about how nice it must be to have an employer that generous and one that thought enough of you to fly over to see how you were doing after you’d been wounded. He didn’t know anyone in his family who would do that for him, never mind his commanding officer. After spending the longest morning and a large part of the afternoon sitting in the car, watching the townhouse, he was about to give up when he knew he’d struck gold. He watched as a pair of young girls used a key and entered the townhouse. One girl had striking red hair and the other one had long straight black hair. Scruggs initial thoughts were that the two girls going into the house was odd, because he knew that the owner, Miranda Priestly, was in Paris. That's why the L.T. hadn't been able to question her about where the Bunny might be. It was also a school day, before three o'clock yet, and he was sure school didn’t let out until after three, so shouldn't the two girls be in class? He wondered.

*****

Being a MP, meant that DeSaix was granted certain courtesies by New York City's Department of Corrections. One of which was particularly useful today and it meant that she was allowed to go down into the 'tombs' on Riker's Island and visit Emily in her cell.

The judge had held the young English Woman in contempt of his court. His orders were that she would be confined to her cell to think about the consequences of her decision and then she would appear before him again tomorrow morning. Until then she would remain a guest of the state. The Lieutenant looked at the woman through the bars, Even though Emily had swapped couture for an ugly orange Department of Corrections jumpsuit DeSaix couldn’t help but feel dumbstruck with how beautiful she was. Even with no makeup on her face Emily looked divine in Desaix’s eyes. God's she's magnificent, the Creole woman thought as her breath caught in her chest.

Emily looked up from where she sat upright on the edge of the bottom bunk bed. She scowled at the woman in uniform on the other side of the bars. “I really don’t know why you’re bothering. I'm not going to reconsider, I'm not bloody well going to tell you what you want to know,” she said quietly. “Somebody needs to be looking out for Andy's interests.”

DeSaix nodded. “What if I can make you an offer.....” she asked softly. “Would you at least hear me out?”

Emily looked at her archly, “Hang on a second; I’ll just check my schedule.” Emily paused and glared at the Soldier, before the bitter sarcasm dripped from her tone. “Oh that’s right, I don’t have one. I’m stuck in a bloody prison cell. Thanks to you… By all means, tell me what you want to say.” 

*****

Just as Scruggs was about to call the L.T. to report on what he was doing, the two girls came out of the townhouse. He noted that they had some difficulty locking the door because each of them was carrying a large brown paper bag, like the kind you would be given at the supermarket. He observed them from his parked vehicle as they walked up the far side of the street street and quickly opened the newspaper he had in the front seat of the car to hide behind, as the girls passed his passenger side window. Peaking around the side of the paper, he was unable to get a good look at them, but he was able to note that there were groceries in the bags they carried. 

“I can't believe you did it, Mom is going to kill you,” Caroline said as she shook her head at her Sister's new hair color.

Cassidy shrugged. “I wanted it black,” she replied as they walked toward the subway entrance up the block, bags in hand.

Caroline rolled her eyes, “You didn't even use temporary dye. It's going to be black now until it grows out.” 

Cassidy shrugged again, “Well now we look different,” she countered.

“Yeah,” Caroline said with derision in her tone, “now you look like your new best friend Morticia Addams,” gesturing to the somber dark clothing Cassidy had chosen to wear. 

“Don't call her that!” Cassidy replied, letting her tone reflect her annoyance. This was a subject she was ready to fight about. 

Caroline shook her head as she fell silent. She had tried to warn her younger—by minutes— sister, but the girl had it bad. She was head over heels for a girl two grades ahead of them and to make matters worse the girl was not even part of the popular crowd. Caroline sighed in exasperation. She'd done all she could, now she was resigned to the fact that she would just have to support support her beloved twin sister in her folly. “All I'm saying is Mom is going to kill you...”

The gears spun in Scruggs' head for a long moment. Why would wealthy kids be taking food out of the townhouse? Didn't kids like fast food places when they were hungry? And didn't wealthy kids always have money in their pockets or at least a flexible friend at their disposal ? He continued to watch as the girls approached the subway entrance, his mind was turning as fast as it could. The light bulb flicked on. They were taking food to someone. Someone that couldn't get their own food, he concluded. He quickly took off the MP armband he wore as part of his uniform and hoped that if they saw him, they'd think him just a soldier on leave. He gave them a good forty-five second lead and getting out of the car, followed them up the street and into the subway. He was determined to be as stealthy as a man as big as he was could manage.

*****

The Morning had been an interesting experience for Andy. The twins had shown up at the hotel at the crack of dawn with Cassidy sporting a new look. Her lovely red hair was now dyed as black as sin and styled in an interesting fashion much different than her sister's. Although Andy hadn’t questioned the reason for such a radical change, she hadn’t needed to wait long before she was presented with the answer; Roxanna. The dynamic in the room had shifted as soon as the young goth girl had arrived. Andy could feel something running between the three youths. She didn't like to think of it in terms of sexual tension—as the girls were in middle school—but she supposed that’s what it was in a juvenile sense. Romantic attraction between people had to start somewhere, right? Andy could easily see that Roxanna was focused on Cassidy. Evidently Cassidy's new look pleased the girl.

The girls seemed to feel that Andy needed someone to be with her, so they had all decided to cut classes and spend the day taking care of her. Roxanna had thought to bring hot cups of coffee when she arrived, which was gratefully appreciated by all. After several hours the Twins left to go to the townhouse for some food to bring back. It was okay with Andy that Miranda's girls had left Roxanna with her at the hotel while they were gone. Roxanna was content to be quiet and sit at the small desk in the hotel room piggybacking her laptop connection on one of the local wifi networks. The twins had a tendency to talk nonstop. They were nervous, Andy figured. This was likely the first time they'd had to deal with someone they cared about really being hurt. Andy alternately missed the chatter and longed for quiet so she could try to retrain her memory and remember her life. All she was sure of was what she felt in her heart, she loved the twin girls. She knew instinctively that they had held a very special place in her life and she hoped that she would be allowed to continue seeing them when their mother returned from Europe at the end of the week. She also hoped that seeing Miranda again in this environment might trigger something more and fill the gaps that she longed to plug.

*****

“And I can get the Army to cover all of your expenses, ...” DeSaix offered through the bars of the cell.

“I'll go...” interrupted Emily's cellmate, a strung out, ratty looking junkie with dirty hair.

“You be quiet,” Emily snapped at the smaller woman, “this doesn't concern you.” Then she turned to DeSaix,. “As for you,” she said to the woman on the other side of the bars, “you can stick your thirty pieces of silver up your arse...” She paused and let a wicked smile play on her lips “Imagine, I am willing to be placed in a hole like this to protect my friend and you think that I'd betray her for a trip to Italy? Are you retarded?” she asked incredulously.

DeSaix swallowed emotions, Emily’s tone was cold and harsh and she could feel the words cutting her to the bone. Here was a truly worthy woman. Loyal, honorable, strong, beautiful, smart, funny....DeSaix had blown it. She'd had everything she'd ever wanted in a lover within reach. The English girl had mirrored all her advances, she had even wanted to kiss her. She wished she could turn back the clock, she found herself questioning her orders once more. It just wasn't fair. It wasn't like finding Sachs was going to end the war or bring the troops home. It was all just political bullshit.... And DeSaix had a feeling that it had personally cost her a lot more than she was willing to pay.

*****

Cassidy attempted to change the subject when they got onto the subway car heading for downtown Manhattan. “So explain to me again why we didn't call Mom and tell her about Andy being here?”

Caroline sighed, she wasn't at all sure of the course of action she'd chosen, but she believed it to be the best of a number of bad alternatives. “Mom is at the shows in Paris. That's a big deal for the magazine...” She bit her lip and she knew that her sister knew that she wasn't telling the whole truth. She looked down and decided that there was no point in hiding her true feelings. This was her twin, if she couldn’t voice what she really felt to Cassidy, who could she talk to? “Mom let the Army take her before. Remember the speech she gave us about duty and responsibility just after Andy went away? I think that if Mom doesn't see her, and I mean really see her, as she is now. If we don’t give her the opportunity realize just how badly Andy needs us...Well...I'm afraid she might just tell us to to turn her in.”

Cassidy sighed. It was hard to think ill of her Mother, but she knew as well as Caroline did, how high a stock she put on meeting one's responsibilities. Caroline could be right. What they needed to do was to make Andy remember as much as she could before their Mom got back. If Andy could be more like her old self when their Mother returned, then surely she would never let her go...Right?

*****


	15. Chapter 15

Corporal Scruggs sat quietly in the back of the crowded subway car pretending to read his newspaper but keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the two girls at the other end of the car. The girls were huddled together in deep discussion and Scruggs wished that he could be a fly on the wall of that conversation.

*****

Roxanna looked up from her computer screen at Andy, who was sitting on the bed. “Didn't Cassidy say we were hiding out from someone named Emily?” she asked, her tone showing her confusion.

Andy nodded. “Yeah, I thought Emily was a friend, but the girls tell me that Emily and I didn't get along before… You know all of this happened. They think that Emily would tell the Army where to find me.”

Roxanna shook her head. “Well this doesn't make any sense then. I cracked the central MP database looking for information on what they have on you. I’ve found some cross-chatter about somebody named Emily Charlton. It say’s that she’s been arrested by civilian authorities for impeding the investigation into your retrieval. There’s some notes to say she is refusing to co-operate.”

Andy stood up awkwardly from the bed and moved behind Roxanna, to look over her shoulder at the computer screen. She re-read the words on the screen and mulled over the situation. Emily was in jail, She had been placed there trying to protect her?. “That doesn't make any sense....” Andy said aloud, confused by the situation....

*****

The volume of the argument had risen and two women now held the attention of all the inmates in the cell block. “I thought you wanted to take care of her! I figured if you were to go with her to Washington and then to Italy you could see to it that nothing bad happened to her!” DeSaix said tightly.

“Oh,” Emily countered sarcastically, “It's not like anything bad has happened to her already...and what do think I am? A fucking body guard?”

She's a soldier,” DeSaix said through clenched teeth. “She volunteered for the Army. She knew what she was getting into! She will go where she's ordered to and do what she's ordered to!” Damn this woman was infuriating, she thought. It was such a shame that there were bars between them. DeSaix wished she had taken her to a private room, she badly wanted to rip off Emily's clothes and teach her a lesson she’d never forget, bruising those beautiful lips with a thousand rough kisses.

*****

Nigel was finally on the ground in New York after traveling all night and a good portion of the day. He was tired, hungry and very, very cranky. His first task was to find Miss Emily Charlton, and he hoped for her sake that she was in the intensive care wing of the local hospital, because if she wasn't, he was sure as hell going to put her there. Then,...then he was going to feed what ever was left to the Dragon Lady and smile while he did it.

*****

Richard Sachs rode the elevator up to Miranda Priestly office. Unsure that Miranda would agree to see him after events in Germany, he decided that a face to face meeting was called for rather than a telephone call that an assistant could reject. Getting by security had only taken a small lie. He'd simply told them that he was an Attorney, which was technically true, and that he'd been summoned to Miranda Priestly's office by her assistant. It surprised him that he was admitted so readily, almost as if his arrival was expected....

*****

As the Twins entered the hotel room they sensed the somber atmosphere in the room. Andy was seated before the computer and Roxanna staring out the window. They set their bags of food down and walked over close to Andy. Since her return they had an overriding urge to be physically close to her whenever they were in the same room. Andy looked up, and the twins saw a single tear run down her face.

“Emily is in jail.” she said quietly to the girls. “Roxanne broke into the MP database. She wouldn't tell them where I was and they put her in jail...”

Caroline read the computer screen over Andy's shoulder as Cassidy moved over to beside where Roxanna stood at the window, 'Roxie, are you okay? What are you looking at?” She said to the Goth girl.

Roxanne continued staring out of the window. “We've got trouble,” she breathed, nodding towards the man in uniform, who was standing on the street talking into his cell phone and looking up at the hotel.

Cassidy followed Roxanne’s gaze and looked out and to see the menace on the street.

Roxanna sighed. “They must have your Mom's place staked out and followed you back here. He came up the street right behind you. He's likely calling for back up right now.”

Caroline moved from behind Andy to look out the window. “What do we do?” She exclaimed in fear. Andy sat woodenly, staring at the computer screen. It was the stockade for her. And there wouldn't be anything familiar there. Nothing to help spur her memory to return.

Roxanna continued to stare out the window for another moment and then turned to Cassidy. “He’s sticking out like a sore thumb. Didn't you see him following you?” She questioned.

Cassidy, eyes worried, shook her head.

“Don’t worry.” Roxanna smiled. “I doubt he got very close to you, I’m sure you would have noticed him in that uniform.” She looked Cassidy up and down, “It’s going to be a tight fit, but take off your shirt..”

“What?” Cassidy asked, as she blushed in surprised. She watched the Goth girl strip her Angelika and Demons tee off and throw it at her.

Roxanna seemed calm and supremely self assured standing there in her bra and a pair of black jeans. “I’m confident that he didn't get close to you, and you now look like me,” she explained. “I'll put on your shirt and waltz right out the front door. I'll make sure he follows me and that should give you all a few minutes to get Andy away before any of his backup gets here.”

Caroline watched her sister quickly strip her shirt off and pass it to Roxanna, then put the other girl's goth band tee on. It was a little big on Cassidy but Roxanna smiled. “It looks good on you Cass,” she said, adopting the name she's heard her sister use. “You should keep it.” Roxanna slipped into Cassidy's tee. It was tight enough on her frame that it clearly showed how she was developing from a girl into a young woman . Cassidy unconsciously licked her lips and Caroline consciously rolled her eyes.

Yep, she’s got it bad, Caroline mused to herself as she watched her sister, watch, calf eyed, as the Ninth Grader hurried out the door.

Cassidy clung to the neck of the tee shirt and placing it over her nose, inhaled deeply. She did look good in that too large tee shirt, Caroline grudgingly admitted to herself. Or maybe it was the huge smile on her face. It had been such a long time since she'd seen her sister so happy. Maybe, just maybe it could work out with this Ninth Grader. She knew that all boys their age were just jerks. Maybe Cass would fair better with another girl?

*****

Richard Sachs wasn't quite prepared for the Serena he met as he arrived in the Runway reception room. She was young, heartbreakingly beautiful and she was also apparently in need of good old fashioned chivalry. A greasy little man had her trapped against one of the two desks in the office, and there was only a hair line that separated the distance between his chubby body and her immaculate figure as he muttered verbal atrocities in her ear. Her face was turned to the side in disgust as she took the abuse. Richard could hear quite clearly that he was threatening the young woman with the loss of her position because she was unable to provide certain documents he was demanding. But, if she were to perform an act of a sexual nature, he would magically forget about her incompetence and not report the failing to the CEO of the company, who was, apparently, a dear friend of his. The young woman was fighting off tears and it was self evident to Richard that the advances were wholly unwelcome.

Being an attorney for almost thirty years had taught Richard a few things, many of them were now second nature to him. One of them was the value of always carrying a recording device. The newest generation of cell phones were a blessing, he had not only recorded the audio of that encounter, but videoed it as well. He snapped the phone closed, the noise of which startled the little man and made him turn and angrily demand, “Who are you and what the hell are you doing here?” Richard smiled a tight smile. “I'm this young woman's lawyer,” he replied quietly, in a self assured and extremely professional manner. “I'm here to sue your ass off,” he said holding up the cell phone that he'd just used to gather the damning evidence. “And by extension, the ass of the company that you work for and that of the person who hired you as well,” he continued.

Less than ten minutes later Richard Sachs had the repulsive little auditor figuratively on his knees and begging for his life. The no good little bastard had literally pleaded for his life, well more for his lifestyle…He had a wife and kids, he begged that he couldn't afford to be out of work in the current economy. Looking to Serena, Richard asked her what she, as the wronged party, wanted to do. He was somewhat disconcerted by the speculative gleam in her eye as he realized that she hadn't taken her eyes off him during the entire verbal exchange with the man they were in a position to ruin...

*****

Scruggs was standing on the sidewalk in front of the rundown hotel that the two girls had lead him too. He was out in the open, and heavily exposed in his uniform, when he saw one of the girls walk out of the hotel and pass by him as bold as day. She was on her cell phone, talking as she walked. He listened into the conversation as she passed and smiled devilishly as he clearly heard her say, “Yes Andy, I'm on my way to you now...” He glanced at the Hotel and then back to the black haired teen up the street. “Damn it!” he swore aloud. His back up was still at least ten minutes away. Why wasn't it ever easy? DeSaix would have him busted him back to a Buck Private if he screwed this up. After another moment of indecision, he turned and followed the girl.

DeSaix arrived at the hotel. Not finding Scruggs waiting for her out front, she entered and flashed her Military Police ID at the Desk Clerk then pulled out a photograph of Sachs. She found her patience tested, at first the clerk was reluctant to cooperate and then he tried to play the vague uncertainty card as she quizzed him to whether he had seen the young woman before. Slipping the man a twenty and describing the wounds the injured Sachs carried seemed to do the trick and the Clerk gave her a room number on the Second Floor. DeSaix hurried to the elevator. She was close, she could feel it. Soon she could put New York City and all the disappointment she had felt since coming here, behind her.

*****

Nigel was a little unprepared to find Serena alone at the helm when he arrived in Miranda's office. He was even more unprepared to find how unhinged she had become in such a short time, he couldn’t tell whether he was being accosted by her excitement or her hysteria as she launched into a twenty minute long sermon on all that had happened since he and Miranda had flown out to Paris. The girl was positively loopy, he thought, as he made a mental note to confiscate any sugar or caffeine in her possession.

She started by explaining how Andy was back and that not only had she lost an arm and a leg but also the last three years of her life had seemingly fallen out of her head. Irv-slimeball-Ravitz had been sniffing around—as per usual—in Miranda’s absence and he was clearly plotting something. AND the piece de resistance was that Emily was in jail. Serena continued to explain more about some mysterious man who had swooped in, out of nowhere and saved her from a fate worse than death. She described how the situation had been like a wonderful fairy tale. She was the Princess and he was her dashing knight on his white charger... By the end of the speech, Nigel was highly amused but incredibly confused. He summarized in his muddled up brain that things were worse than he could have anticipated but thankfully Serena had met Sir Lancelot, who, may in his professional sense, have passed the bar exam.

*****

When Emily had been told she had a visitor by the guard, she had fully expected it to be Desaix again. The very thought of that woman sent shivers up and down her spine and lightning pulses to her lady parts. She knew she should be angry with the woman, no, she was angry with the woman. She was her nemesis, yet she'd never wanted anyone so badly in her entire life, it was infuriating. When this madness was over they were going to have some very angry sex. No two ways about it…, And so it was with disappointment that Emily learned that her visitor was not the Creole Beauty she had expected but some vaguely familiar looking middle-aged man in a brown suit.

*****

Andy and the twins slipped out of a side door to the Hotel and moved quickly down the alley, away from where they had last seen the soldier on the street. They were, for the moment, without direction or a destination.

*****

Scruggs caught up to the black haired teen as she stopped to buy a large cup of coffee from a street vendor about three blocks from the hotel. He grabbed her roughly by her arm and flashed his Military Police ID. “Where is Corporal Andy Sachs?” He demanded. She looked at him and adrenaline pouring into her system sent her thoughts into overdrive. _Emily went to jail for Andy. That is hugely romantic; to be willing to sacrifice all for someone important to you. It's very Dickens and A Tale of Two Cities!_ Roxanna had always had a romantic streak, one that ran a mile wide and she loved reading the classics. In this moment, it was like the Arthurian legends. She was Cassidy's knight-errant, even to wearing her Lady's favor in the form of the girl's, too tight, tee shirt. She sipped her coffee and smiled at the hulking soldier. “I'm not telling you anything, Monsieur Defarge.” she answered quietly as she continued to smile at him.

*****

Nigel had made the call to Miranda assuring her that everything was under control at Runway. He idly wondered when he'd become suicidal, because lying to Miranda was something only someone who wanted to die a horrible and painful death would do. Things were definitely not okay here. As per Serena’s summary: Irv was plotting, Emily was in jail, and Andy was, at first, back but now missing again. No, things were far from right at Runway and he had only three days to correct that situation before Miranda returned and bought down the reigning fires of hell on their heads.

*****

DeSaix arrived at the 17th Police Precinct just after dusk via a summons from Corporal Scruggs. She was actually relieved to learn that Scruggs had a lead. Her investigations at the Hotel had proved fruitless. Sachs had paid cash for the room, it had been rented it for a total of four nights, but the Corporal and all traces of her were long gone before she'd gotten there. Corporal Scruggs' detainee was the only remaining connection to Sachs and currently their only hope in finding her before the deadline. DeSaix walked down the brightly lit hallway of the precinct and found her partner leaning against a wall and scowling at a young Gothic styled girl. She was handcuffed quite unnecessarily to a bench, whilst—whom Desaix assumed were—her parents, argued with the ’Boys in Blue’ behind the charging desk. Scruggs informed her that the girl in custody was named Roxanna Gilchrist and how unfortunately she was proving to be as uncooperative as the British-Chippy that they had down in the cells. In fact what was even more disconcerting was that the walking trainer-bra had actually encouraged him to lock her up. Desaix rolled her eyes at Scruggs as went on about how she been talking nonsense, something to do with somebody named Dickens or DeFarge. DeSaix knew that she was now down to less than thirty-six hours. Which, in Desaix’s world actually meant twenty-four hours. Her daily motto ran through her head and she nodded in affirmation. ‘Prior planning and preperation prevents piss poor performance’. She decided it was time to finesse the situation.

She walked up to where the black haired girl sat. “Ms Gilchrist?” She asked, “I'm Lieutenant Meriwether DeSaix,” she said smiling at the young woman, “And I am in serious need of your help”...

*****


	16. Chapter 16

Nigel had commandeered Miranda's office as he plotted to derail Irv's latest scheme to remove Miranda from the helm of Runway. He’d learned in a very short time that, Richard Sachs—Six’s Father and Serena’s ‘white knight’—was a refreshing combination of amusing and ruthless. 

Richard had almost gleefully informed both Nigel and Serena that, as Irv had hired the S.O.B. responsible for sexually harassing Serena, they would have a considerable lever to use against him. Being licensed to practice law in the State of New York was a huge bonus, but the added bonus was that his specialty was corporate law giving them the clearer edge on the competition. As soon as he had dealt with Emily’s contempt citation hearing in the morning, he explained that he would file a lawsuit that named, not only the auditor, but the Board of Elias-Clark and its CEO as defendants. The bad press such a lawsuit would generate, in and of itself, should, at the very least, give Irv Ravitz pause. The cost of dropping the suit would be for Irv to agree to stop all attempts to get Miranda replaced as Editor-in-Chief. If he didn't back down, Richard would use the media attention the lawsuit would generate to pressure the board to have the little weasel dismissed as CEO.

Nigel had always been a fascinated student of the human condition. He enjoyed subtly watching people and marveled at human behaviors. Working together with his two companions late into the night, it wasn’t long before he began to notice something—not so subtle—between Serena and Richard. He observed Six’s Father, in what was clearly his natural environment as he paced the office, talking on his cell phone. He moved swiftly between tasks, alternately working on his brief for Emily’s hearing, preparing the necessary papers for their imminent lawsuit and attempting to contact all of Andy's known acquaintances in the city, in the hope of finding his Daughter. The man's focus on each job as he did it was almost total. Nigel watched Serena as her eyes followed her 'dashing white knight' as he moved restlessly about the office. He smiled pointedly as he noted that Richard's coffee cup had not been allowed to get cold or empty all evening. Serena had been on waiting hand, each time, freshening the older man's cup. It was curious, Nigel thought. The Brazilian beauty's interest was unmistakable. He struggled briefly with his shallow opinions but he just couldn’t comprehend why. Six's father seemed nice enough in his inexpensive, badly tailored, off the rack, sinopia brown suit, but Serena could have any straight man she wanted without lifting a finger. Why on earth would she be flirting with Six's father?

*****

The twins were down to very limited options, all of their combined money had gone to the non refundable hotel room. Which, since they had been traced by the Military fuzz, they could no longer return to. Hurrying down the street and fresh out of other ideas, Cassidy offered the only remaining option. “We gotta take her back to Dad's place. We can hide her in the pool house. No one will know. He never uses the pool this time of year, it’s not even heated. Nobody’s gonna be using it. ”

Caroline looked to Andy, who looked exhausted and very pale. “Are you okay?” She asked, worry in her tone.

“Out of my pain pills,” Andy replied, grimacing. “I left the hospital without permission, I only had a limited supply. I took my last one this morning.” 

“What are you going to do? Caroline asked, her worried tone leaning towards panicked. 

Andy sensed the tension in her voice and searched for the strength to go on. She was the adult here, she knew she needed help but she she also knew she was putting a lot of pressure on the young girls. “Don’t worry Sweetheart.” Andy spoke softly and cupped Caroline’s chin with her hand. “We will just take one step at a time. Everything’s going to be just fine.” She watched as the tension began to disappear from Caroline’s body and then she leaned in to kiss her temple. Andy stood and turned to the other twin. “What are you thinking Kiddo?”

Cassidy nodded up the street. “There's a subway entrance up ahead. We can take it to Union Station and catch a commuter train to Dad's.”

A much calmer Caroline sighed, “Yeah Dumbo.” she said sarcastically, “And how are we going to do that? We have our transit passes but how are we going to buy Andy a ticket with no money?” 

At that moment Cassidy's cell phone began to ring. She reached into her pocket and took it out to study the caller ID. She didn’t recognize the number. “Hello?” She greeted warily as she answered the call.

“Cass,” Roxanna said, breathlessly from the other end of the call, “Listen carefully, I have to talk fast. Grab something you can write a phone number down on. I don't now how long it might take them to trace where you are, so I need to make this quick.”

Cassidy stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, and turned to her sister with her eyes wide. She moved the cell away from her and, gestured impatiently with her hand. “Give me something to write with” she urged to her sister. She pulled the phone back to her ear as Caroline rummaged in her bag. “Where are you Roxie? Are you all right? I’ve been so worried.”

Roxanna looked up and smiled sinisterly at Lieutenant DeSaix who stood across from her at the interview room table. “No worries,” she answered sweetly. “I got arrested by that goon. You wouldn't believe how big he is close up....”

“Arrested?!” Cassidy squeaked.

“Yeah, I'm being held downtown at the police station. They said that they’re going to move me to a holding cell in a little while. Listen Cass, there’s a soldier here with me. She’s an officer from the Army police and she says that it's really important that she talks to Andy. So here's what I want you to do....”

Cassidy listened to Roxanna's instructions.

Caroline, had a pen ready and waiting and she offered her hand as a place to jot down anything that Roxanna supplied via Cassidy.

“So,” Roxanna concluded. “Go to our original rendezvous point and give the phone number to Andy. The Officer, says it's really important that she talk to her tonight, but make sure she uses a payphone! Gotta go, we’ve spent way too much time on the phone already!” She said sounding rushed and harassed. “Love you, Cass! Bye,” Roxanne listened for her response and then broke the connection. 

DeSaix sighed and rolled her eyes. “You have watched way too many episodes of SVU and CSI kid. I don't have the budget or the pull here to have your call traced.”

Roxanna sat across the table smiling beatifically. She'd said she loved Cassidy. She hadn't thought about it. It had just rolled out of her mouth out of the blue. And Cass—just before she'd broken the connection—had said she loved her back.

As Cassidy explained to Andy what Roxanna had said, Caroline Priestly stood, in a state of shock, on the sidewalk of a street in Midtown Manhattan. Her sister had transitioned to full Goth, they were on the run from the Army and now the NYPD, their friend had been arrested and her sister had just told said friend that she loved her over the telephone. This evening just couldn't get much weirder if it tried, she thought to herself.

*****

For Serena, it had been the most romantic night of her life. One simple kiss had set her heart on fire. For Richard, it had been confusing and totally unexpected. He didn’t know how else to describe it. It had happened just before she had boarded her train. He had volunteered to escort her to the Subway stop. This was New York City after all and the streets could be unfriendly after dark. She had leaned in and grabbing onto the lapels of his top coat, she had kissed him on the lips before laughing and slipping into the subway car. “Till tomorrow, my Knight,” she had said, a smile on her lips and her eyes sparkling, as the doors closed.

As Richard Sachs stood on the subway platform and watched the train recede up the tunnel, he couldn’t help feeling that there was obviously something very odd about the whole situation. She was younger than his daughter. Surely she wasn’t interested in a over the hill, long in the tooth guy like him. He thought for a moment longer and put it down to her culture. He didn’t know many, no scratch that, he didn’t know any Brazilian women. Maybe this was just how they said goodbye? He sighed and tuned to head back of the subway, he was tired, he would deal with this tomorrow. Now he needed to focus on finding his Daughter.

*****

It had been a long walk to Union Station and by that point Andy was in considerable pain. Her new prosthetic had only had the most cursory of fittings and it wasn't designed to be trekked across the city. She feared that she might be doing damage to the amputation site where the socket of the prosthetic made contact with what was left of her leg but she really had no choice. Her destination did in fact meet all of Roxanna's cloak and dagger requirements. There were plenty of people and crowds around to get lost in and lots of exits to escape from. The twins had dropped back from the bank of pay phones and tried to blend in the crowd, so as not to draw any unnecessary attention to their group. Andy slotted a coin into the pay phone, which Cassidy had worked her sweet-teen charm and bummed a quarter off of a cute boy outside the station and dialed the number as instructed. 

The call was answered after the first ring and Andy heard the sweet Louisiana tones of a woman’s voice. “DeSaix” 

“Good evening Ma’am. Erm, they didn't tell me how to address you. May I please know your rank?” Andy asked politely into the phone.

“I'm a First Lieutenant, 161st MP's. Is this Corporal Sachs?” DeSaix said into her cell phone.

“Yes Ma'am,” Andy answered, unconsciously coming to attention. 

“As a Corporal in the United States Army, you are absent without leave and I need you to come in immediately.” DeSaix stated the facts but spoke softly, hoping to not spook this AWOL hero any more than she had already been.

Andy sighed. “Yes Ma'am, I understand. But I have one condition.”.

DeSaix clenched her teeth. All good intentions fell by the wayside as she snapped at the younger soldier. “A superior officer has given you an order Corporal. You are in no position to make conditions,” she clipped into the phone.

“Begging your pardon, Lieutenant,” Andy replied, “with due respect clearly you want something from me. I may have bumped my head, but even I know that the Army doesn’t invest this much time and resource in finding one Soldier. Therefore the only way I'm surrendering myself is when I know for a fact that Emily Charlton and Roxanna Gilchrist have both been released from custody.”

DeSaix bit down on the inside of her cheek. “Sachs,” she sighed in frustration. “they are both in civilian custody, under civilian jurisdiction. Even if I can do anything about that, it won't be until tomorrow morning. I need you to come in tonight.”

Instinctively, Andy shook her head in disagreement. “No. I will give you my location when I can speak to Emily on her office line at Runway and when Roxanne is safely home with her parents. Not one minute before.”

“Damn it Corporal, you're just digging yourself in deeper,” DeSaix replied. “Call Re...” she stopped, and quickly censored her almost use of the endearment she had given the British woman. “I will work on getting Ms Charlton released first thing in the morning. Having to deal with civilian bureaucracy it is likely to take me most of it. You will call Miss Charlton’s line at twelve-Hundred hours. I'll be with her, and you damn well be close by and ready to give yourself up. As for Miss Gilchrist, tell her little girlfriend that she’ll she her in the morning.”

“Ma'am, yes Ma'am” Andy replied remembering her manners. She hung up the phone and scanned the crowd for the twin girls she now knew she loved with all her heart. They quickly appeared at her side, hopeful for good news. “It's time for you two to go home,” she said softly. “Your Father is no doubt worried sick about you.”

Caroline looked at Andy. “You're going back, aren't you?” She asked in a small voice. 

Cassidy looked down at the floor, trying desperately not to cry.

“I'm AWOL. That’s absent without leave girls.” Andy said softly. “One way or another they'll eventually get me for that and the longer I leave it, the worse the punishment will be. Fifty years ago they would have shot me on the spot for desertion. At least this way, I can cut a deal. I can at least get Emily and Roxanna out of trouble. And I need…” she swallowed the lump in her throat and the tears that threatened to fall. “I really need to keep you two from getting into trouble for trying to help me.”

Cassidy shook her head stubbornly. “You don't have any money. Where will you go? Where will you sleep?”

Andy sighed, “We passed a homeless shelter a few blocks back. After I see you two onto the train to your Dad's place, I'll go there.”

Caroline shook her head. “It's not fair.” she said sullenly.

Andy smiled sadly. “I'm afraid that the world isn't always fair, kiddo...” she answered mussing the girl's hair with her good hand.

*****


	17. Chapter 17

Paris, was usually so exciting and energizing, but no matter how hard Miranda tried to soak it all in, she just found everything so terribly disappointing this year. The fashions that everyone else were so enthusiastic about had no pizzazz. The colors, which were usually so vibrant, all lacked that joie de vivre. Miranda sat alone feeling completely uninspired, through another interminable show. She considered the meaning of her mood. Perhaps it was time to call it a day and retire, she thought. Closing her eyes she saw the one thing that stilled her aching heart. Andrea's face was still with her. She knew then with certainty why she felt so low. Why everything seemed so gray and dull. Why she could no longer find joy in the places and colors that had always given her so much joy. It was because her heart was broken. She opened her eyes, she knew what she needed to do. On Sunday, when the rest of the staff flew back to New York, she would fly to Washington. Yes, as soon as she escaped this pitiful excuse for a run through, she would make the arrangements. She would see her Andrea again and she would fix this mess.

*****

It was a long night for Andy. She had a difficult time falling asleep on the hard cot that the homeless shelter provided her in the common dormitory. She was surrounded by despair and hopelessness, and also what sounded like a few strains of tuberculosis. The morning would bring the stockade. At least, she thought, she'd be able to repay her mistrust in Emily's kindness by getting her out of jail. When Andy did finally pass into the arms of Morpheus, the nightmare was waiting for her with a vengeance.

*****

Wade Bradley was married to Miranda Priestly for close to ten years before they divorced. That was more than twice as long as either of her two marriages since, a fact he felt gave him the advantage over all the future Mr. Miranda Priestly’s. He was also –by his own admission and his shame—an absentee father to his beautiful twin daughters. He saw his twin daughters every other weekend and one week during the summer or, as it was at the moment, when his wife was out of town. It tore at him even more though that he realized that he saw them more now on this schedule than when he had lived with them. Something had changed in his life recently. Something he hadn't told anyone about. He'd had a minor heart attack. It was a nothing occurrence on the scale of heart attacks, but it had opened his eyes. He was rigorously following the diet and exercise regimen his Cardiologist had given him and now he was determined that he was going to stop and smell the roses. He was determined to build a relationship with his beloved children.

Wade was not quite as over protective as his Iconic ex-wife was. He was a believer in the idea that kids will be kids and he saw his two girls quickly becoming young adults. And as they walked through the door at close to ten PM without a courtesy call, he interpreted it as merely them trying to assert their independence. He didn't make a big deal about it. Just as he hadn’t commented on Cassidy’s hair. He simply smiled, told them to get something to eat, and said that there was a gift waiting for each of them on their beds in their rooms.

After they'd eaten they went upstairs and opened their gifts. Caroline had been given a subscription of pairs of tickets to see the symphony. She was thrilled and made a sure that everyone in the house knew about it by screaming her thank you at the top of her voice, excitedly. 

Wade stood quietly at the door to Cassidy’s room as she took the top off of the dress box from a store called Gothic Renaissance located in the East Village. The smock inside was black, with a ruffled jabot held in place by a rhinestone studded stickpin. It had a band of black lace around the bottom of the smock to cover what would otherwise have been her bare midriff. The skirt was a mid thigh length, made of dark gray pleated silk and falling in genteel curves. There was a pair of lace stockings in the box that matched the lace on the smock. In another box were a funky pair of black boots. Altogether it made for a very Goth outfit. She looked up at him and he smiled at her. “I know I wouldn't win any prizes for Dad of the year, but I get it Cassidy,” he offered softly, “You need to be your own self now, to express your individuality. Everybody goes through it. Everybody needs to try to find themselves. I love you baby. And I'm here to help you find who you want to be.”

Before he knew what was happening his little girl was in the doorway, hugging him for all he was worth.

Bouncing from her room to thank her Father for the tickets, Caroline glanced at them and then at the apparel on the bed. Great, she thought. Now Mom's gonna kill Cass and Dad both and then go to prison for it and I'm gonna end up in some state home and going to public school...

*****

Emily's court hearing was scheduled as one of the first cases of the day. The Lieutenant was in the courtroom before the case was called. She had decided that her dress uniform would better set the tone she wanted to present and so she had opted to wear her ‘blues and blacks' instead of her brash urban fatigues. The Judge who was a staunch, yet moderate Republican, had been sympathetic to the Army's demands and as he passed the Lieutenant on the way to the bench she could tell that he was impressed by the collection of service ribbons she wore on her chest. It had come to her attention, as she’d prepared her plea for Emily’s freedom, that he'd never even questioned the reason for her strict deadline. Now she felt an element of regret for abusing that trust but she hoped deep down that he would give her the same level of respect as she tried to convince him to let ‘her’ Red go. She knew she had been lucky the night before when she had managed to intervene at the police station and talk the arresting officers into dropping the charges against the teenage girl. She knew that her rank and jabber had got her most of the way with the officers and her smile had sealed the deal . But now as she watched Emily being led into the court room by a bailiff and felt the nausea sweep her stomach, she knew that she was clutching at straws, her day was about to take a tumble down hill.

Emily stumbled while entering the court room, but the Bailiff, who really treated her very decently and with respect, caught her arm and helped her right herself. She blamed her stumble on the fact that one of her eyes was nearly swollen shut. Emily’s evening had been less than pleasant and she was now sporting a huge black eye after some woman had taken a particular liking to her and attempted to accost her in the communal shower. However, Emily Charlton was no push over. One of the last things she'd done before leaving her upper class town in London in preparation for the reality of living in New York was to take a women's self defense class. And to this day she still took at least one course each year as a way of keeping the skills fresh and staying in shape. She was armed with every combination of self defense and anti-rape technique there was to learn, all elbows and eye gouging, biting and knees. The woman that had been intent on making Emily her ‘bitch’ was in the infirmary and Emily had spent a good portion of the night in the Warden's office trying to explain the situation. The Warden had believed Emily's account of what had happened and he had explained that this wasn’t the first time the other woman had attempted such a forward act. Fortunately for Emily it was normally the girl who rebuffed the woman’s advances that ended up in the infirmary. After the nurse had looked at Emily's eye the Warden assured her that no disciplinary action would be taken and it would be filed as self defense on Emily’s part. All in all Emily felt that she had been treated quite fairly. As she moved to the Defendant's table she raised her eyes and saw DeSaix's horrified glance. Emily held her head high and proud, but still felt something clench deep in her heart. ‘You won't break me,’ she thought as she projected her glare at the uniformed woman. ‘Runway didn’t break me and if Miranda Priestly can’t break me, I’m sure as hell that you won’t. I'm your equal. I can stand beside you. I cannot be broken!’

As Richard Sachs stood before the Judge, Emily had to admit that Andy's Father was good.. He stated her case clearly and concisely and Emily found herself wondering why Andy had skipped the eloquent genes. He explained to the Judge that, whilst Emily had known where Andrea Sachs had been, she had not lied to the Army officer when she was asked to reveal the Corporal’s location as the woman was no longer there, she had not told his client where she was going. Richard swore as an officer of the court that he had been to the house, himself to look for the missing soldier and that he also had the witness testimonies of two police officers who had also called at the townhouse address to check on his behalf. 

“Mr. Sachs,” the Judge asked, with a hint of boredom in his tone, “I notice that your surname name and the surname of the Corporal Sachs is the same. Am I to assume that this is a coincidence?”

“No your Honor,” Richard answered. “She's my daughter, and therefore I’m sure that you can believe me when I say that I want to find her more than the Army does. But that is not withstanding, in the matter of the law and this case, Ms Charlton did not and does not possesses any relevant information to the whereabouts of Corporal Sachs, so I move to request that you void the contempt citation, drop all the charges and release her from custody...”

DeSaix had lost the thread of the court proceeding before it had even started. She couldn’t take her eyes off Emily. The English Woman stood beside her Lawyer, her posture was stiff and erect, her bearing seemed almost regal. “What a woman!” DeSaix, mouthed, quietly under her breath. She was so lost in the woman she had not heard her name called to the Bench. It was until the Judge spoke a second time that she snapped to attention.

Moving to the front of the court room the Lieutenant addressed the Judge. “Your Honor,” she said “I have been in telephone contact with Corporal Sachs and she has agreed to surrender herself to my custody on the condition that Ms. Charlton is released. I have been in touch with my superiors and speaking as the delegated representative of the United States Army, we formally request that you comply with Corporal Sachs' request and release Ms Charlton.”

The Judge frowned at the soldier in uniform before his bench. “Lieutenant DeSaix, I am not in the habit of making deals with people who are in violation of the law.” He looked back toward where Emily stood, unapologetic. “This young woman has broken the law…” 

Feeling the time slipping away from her DeSaix felt she had no choice but use Plan B. Something she had promised herself she wouldn't do. It was the only card she had left to play, she needed to reveal the “Big Picture”. Her orders were to resolve this quickly and quietly, the Army did not want it to become common public knowledge, they were not fond of airing their dirty laundry in public and the fact that a soldier who was about to be awarded the highest honor the country could bestow, had gone A.W.O.L. days before the presentation, was not something they wanted to shout about. DeSaix shook her head ‘Of course, if the fricking idiot officers at the military hospital had thought to tell Sachs of the Army’s intentions then perhaps she wouldn't have split in the first place. She thought bitterly. “May I approach the bench, your Honor?” She asked forcefully.

The Judge was taken aback but to satisfy his curiosity he motioned for her to approach. The state appointed Prosecutor and Richard both moved to approach the bench with Desaix, as was standard procedure for a side bar conference. DeSaix looked at the Judge and shook her head. The Judge widened his eyes and looking up spoke to the litigators in the room. “Gentlemen, if you'll just give us a moment please.” Richard bristled. He knew this wasn't proper procedure, he had every right to be there. He felt every muscle in his body stiffen as he held back his frustration , he desperately wanted to know what she had to say that was so sensitive, he desperately wanted to find his daughter. 

The court room watched as DeSaix and the Judge spoke quietly, at the bench with their heads close together. Their conversation lasted less than a minute before the Judge's head snapped up and his went wide “the Congre....” he said loudly enough for the room to hear, before clipping his volume.

“In less than twenty-six hours,” DeSaix informed just as loudly before glancing pointedly at her watch.

The Judge nodded and glanced at the defendant where she stood beside her lawyer. “Ms Charlton,” he intoned solemnly, “Yesterday you refused to answer questions put to you by this court. You impeded a lawful investigation into the retrieval of a soldier who is illegally absent from her duties in the Army. This type of behavior can not be tolerated under the rule of law. However, I will release you on the condition that you apologize to this court.”

Emily stood defiantly, with her tilted head up and her hands forcibly placed on her hips as she listened to the Judge. She glanced briefly at DeSaix and her one good eye sparkled mischief. Turning back to the Judge she spoke clearly, for all the courtroom to hear. “No. Shan't,” she answered.

Richard closed his eyes and sighed audibly. 

DeSaix closed her eyes and trembled with a mixture of frustration and lust. “God. What a woman!” she whispered to herself.

*****  
First period had ended and Caroline now had a free study period, she walked through the Dalton halls to the library and caught a glimpse of her twin sister entering her Life Sciences class. Feeling stressed, she shook her head, her twin sister who less than a week ago had been her mirror image was now a full on Goth Girl. They couldn’t look more different. There she was all decked out in her new outfit, the black lipstick, the black nail polish, the garish silver blue eyeshadow and the palest cover-up that could be had from the Drugstore she had insisted that their father's driver stop at on the way to school. On top of that, they still hadn’t heard from Andy yet. She had promised she would call before she met with the Soldier that was looking for her. She had promised the girls that she wouldn't leave again without talking to them first. And she'd promised to keep in touch no matter what happened today. 

Caroline joined her clique where the 'in-crowd' gathered at their chosen table in the library where study halls were held. Ashlyn Miller, her best friend—after her sister—and one of the nominal leaders of the group, stopped talking as Caroline sat down. Caroline felt the shift in the atmosphere. She had been on the giving end enough times when someone stepped outside the bounds of acceptance. They wouldn’t make it easy for her, she knew she would have a choice, to turn on Cassidy, to disown her, or take the risk of being ostracized from the in-crowd. The girls at the table glanced at Caroline speculatively. “So,” Ashlyn said, in her usual nasty and condescending tone. “What's up with Cassidy's Bride of Dracula look? Halloween come a little early this year?” The rest of the girls at the table giggled in chorus. Caroline sighed, 'and so it starts,' she thought. Looking at Ashlyn she decided to nip the situation in the bud before it had a chance to bloom. “Cassidy is trying out a new look,” she said evenly, “and even if she chose to do a Britney Spears and shave her head she would still be ten times more beautiful than you.” Her eyes focused squarely on her ‘BFF’ her lips pursed firmly and her cold gaze— which was strikingly like her mother's— fixed on Ashlyn daring her to respond.

*****


	18. Chapter 18

Roxanna was waiting outside Cassidy's second period class when it ended. She was still wearing the too-tight tee shirt that Cassidy had swapped with her day before and nervously and silently she held out a piece of folded paper. 

Cassidy accepted the paper and unfolded it to read the contents. She smiled shyly and looked dreamily into the eyes of her Knight-errant. Enclosed was a beautifully sketched and perfect penned image of a single red rose. 

Today was going well, Cassidy thought. Andy had called just a few minutes ago as her class was finishing. She had explained how she’d stayed at the homeless shelter as promised and she was now just waiting for noon to roll around so she could get on with what she had to do. Cassidy was now eager to find Caroline and tell her what Andy had said. She reached out and almost bashfully took Roxanna's hand as they walked up the hallway side by side.

*****

“Suspended!?” Wade Bradley shouted, justifiably surprised into his office phone. “For fighting!?” He listened for a moment and then continued, “Yes Headmaster, I can be there in about forty-five minutes.”

*****

Word spread like wild fire through the halls of Dalton. Caroline Priestly had gone psycho in the library and punched out her best friend. Cassidy, with Roxanna hovering close behind took up residence in the hall outside the disciplinarian's office, hoping to see her sister and ask what the heck had happened.

***** 

Andy nervously watched the clock from inside the Starbucks across the street from the Elias-Clark building. She'd bummed enough change from a worker at the homeless shelter to make a couple of phone calls. She'd already fulfilled her promise to Cassidy and Caroline and checked in to confirm she was okay. It was only a few minutes to noon and she was eagerly watching the clock waiting to call Emily's line at the office. She had told herself unequivocally that if Emily answered, she would honor her promise and surrender to military authorities. She sighed, she was not only AWOL, she had disobeyed a direct order, and that meant sixty days in the stockade… at a minimum. She'd be lucky if she didn’t get busted down to a private again. Andy shook her head. What could have been so great about her last couple of years in New York City? Runway was a meat-grinder, a regular self esteem camp and as far as she could tell it was even more brutal when Miranda was present. She had all the clackers on a constant state of red alert. Why, she questioned, why was it, that she was so desperate for the woman to come back? Why did she feel like she was missing the one thing that could make her whole again? She felt like her heart was breaking knowing that she wouldn't be here on Sunday when Miranda returned. Andy clutched at the two rings she wore on the chain around her neck. Was one of these Miranda's? They looked like wedding rings. What did it mean? What did they symbolize? Her thoughts were racing and all jumbled up. She shook her head to clear it and dialed the phone.

*****

Nigel had been experiencing a surreal morning. It had started when Serena had arrived in the office early and dressed to impress. While this, in itself, was not unusual, the choice of outfit was what Nigel would consider 'man-eater' and he could read the disappointment in every line of her body when she realized that they were alone together in the office—no Richard. The second act began just after nine A.M. When Irv, the little weasel, had entered the office looking for the Auditor that he had sent to spy on them. Nigel played stupid and pretended to have no knowledge of the man or the audit. When Irv began to question him and Serena, Serena jumped in and told him that his auditing man had not been looking well the previous day, and he'd left rather suddenly. Irv had been just about to leave in a sulk when he stopped and looked at Nigel suspiciously. 

“What are you doing back so soon?” He questioned. 

Nigel calmly informed Irv that Miranda had sent him back to 'look after things' and now in even more of a sulk, Irv retreated from the office. 

The next event on Nigel’s list was when Emily strolled into the office, just after ten A.M. She glided down the hall and into the office, dressed up to the nines in finery from the closet. Her eye make up had been applied even more aggressively than usual, but even with all that concealer and fierce eyeshadow there was no way that she could cover up the deep purple and swollen shiner that she was sporting. Close behind her Christian Louboutin heels, followed the Stormtroopers. Two uniformed soldiers stood stiffly near the office door to the corridor. One of them was a huge hunk of a man in green fatigues and the other was a woman in full dress uniform. Nigel looked her up and down several times and hummed to himself,, if she lost a few pounds and put on some make-up, she would fit very nicely in the Fall edition of Runway. 

Nigel had always made it a habit to watch what was going on around him. He had once told Miranda that he had an all seeing eye and to this day, it had never failed. The tension between the female soldier and Emily was as tight as an Olympian shot-putter’s thong, it could snap at any second and Nigel was internally wagering all kinds of bets on what could happen. 

Just before Noon the most surreal event of the morning took place. Pausing, Emily looked up from her desk, where she had been cutting through the work that had accumulated over the two days of her incarceration. “Nigel,” she said clearly, “in a few minutes a phone call is going to come in. After I’ve taken the call I'll be leaving with these soldiers,” she nodded at the woman in uniform. “I don't know when I'll be back, but it will likely be late next week at the earliest.”

The female soldier looked at Emily. “You're not going with us,” she said clearly, her sweet Louisiana accent caressing the words. 

Emily locked eyes with the solider—who Nigel had observed from her name tag was call DeSaix—and smiled a cold smile that would have done Miranda proud. Nigel could feel the clash of wills. “Then I shan’t answer the call when it comes in,” she said with a note of finality in her tone.

The soldier glared at the Brit.

Nigel could feel the temperature in the room drop below freezing and he decided it was time for him to intervene. “Emily,” he said quietly, “Miranda is out of the country. You have responsibilities here. We need you at your desk.”

Emily shook her head and smiled a sad smile at Nigel. “Nigel, you know our illustrious leader better than that. All she will see is that I deserted my post while she was gone,” she answered softly. “She's not going to care about details. Hell, for all I know, I’m already fired and she just hasn't told anyone yet. But it doesn't matter, if I'm not sacked now I will be after this, because I'm going Nigel. It's something I have to do.” 

Serena looked at Emily horrified. “Emily,' she almost whispered, “Runway and working with Miranda is all you ever wanted.”

The English woman shrugged. “I have to help Andy. Someone has to be there for her. If they're going to take her to god knows where, someone she trusts, who actually gives a damn about what she's feeling and what she needs should be with her. Lord knows I never thought I’d say this but that someone is going to be me. I’m doing the right thing and not even Miranda Priestly’s wild horses are going to stop me.” 

DeSaix, took in the Redhead’s passionate words and all she could think was the refrain that had been running almost non-stop through her head for the last twenty-four hours. ‘God! What a woman!’

Andy listened to the line ring once before it was picked up. “Miranda Priestly's office,” came the Brit's charming accent through the receiver. 

“Emily,” Andy said softly. “I'm so sorry,”

“Nonsense,” Emily answered. “You simply did what you needed to do, just as I have.”

Andy sighed. “Did they release Roxanna too?” She asked.

“Yes,” Emily said into the receiver. “Lieutenant DeSaix told me that they released her into the custody of her parents early yesterday evening. At some point I expect you tell me about her, she sounds like my kind of girl. The Lieutenant has a Corporal with her. He’s the biggest man I've ever seen and she sacred the pudding out of him.”

Andy chuckled into the phone, no matter how cold Emily seemed to act, she always knew just what to say. “Roxanna's a Goth and apparently a witch. She did a spell yesterday that is supposed to help and protect me,” she said and then sighed. “Guess I may need it where I'm going.” She paused and swallowed a lump in her throat. “I’m ready Em, tell me what I need to do.” 

“Come up to the office,” the English woman replied, “They're waiting here for you.”

“Alright,” Andy replied. “I'm across the street so I'll be there in about ten minutes.” There was an awkward silence on the line, “Emily?” 

“Yes?” Emily asked. 

“Thank you.”

Scared of her reserve, Emily broke the connection without answering, .

Nigel had listened with some surprise to the gentleness and concern in Emily's tone. Emily usually played the bitch to everyone she encountered. In the past she had been particularly hostile towards Andy, almost from the moment that ‘Six’ had come to work at Runway. Somewhere inside he found this new concern for Andy unsettling. His mind started turning overtime, churning out sinister thoughts and reasoning. Emily was gay and Andy he had recently discovered was too. Andy had started a relationship with Miranda before she had been sent to Afghanistan. But as far as he was aware, Emily did not know about their relationship. If Andy truly couldn't remember the last three years then that meant that she didn't know about it either. Nigel closed his eyes. Emily's quiet concern for Andy pointed to a radical change in their relationship. The potential for a catastrophic confrontation between Miranda and Emily was simply too great to be ignored. “Emily,” he said softly, “May I see you in Miranda's office for a moment?” He asked.

Emily glanced at DeSaix, “She'll be here in ten minutes,” she said to the soldier and then she nodded and followed Nigel into Miranda's office.

Nigel closed the office door behind them and turned to the British woman. “Emily, what's going on between you and Andy?” he hissed.

“Going on between Me and Andy?” she replied, looking at him, confused.

“You can not be involved with Andrea Sachs.” Nigel said firmly, moving to put Miranda's desk between them.

“Involved with Andy?' She screeched incredulously, her patience was really wearing thin. “Why is it that everyone seems to think I'm sleeping with Andrea-bloody-Sachs?” 

Nigel looked at her for a long moment. “You're not?”

“Nigel,” Emily clipped, keeping her tone short. “First of all, do you really think she is my type? I mean she eats carbs for goodness sake. Secondly and most importantly, Andy is so broken that even if I were her lover I wouldn't be doing anything but holding her. She's lost an arm, a leg and her memory and now the bloody United States Army want to use her as some kind of political ping-pong ball.”

Nigel felt his whole body relax. “And you intend to go with her to protect her even though it would likely cost you your job here at Runway?” He asked softly.

Emily swallowed hard, tears threatening. “Yes,” she said, obviously struggling, the pain coming through in her tone. “Somebody has to give a damn about what she wants and needs.”

Nigel nodded. “Your job will be here for you when you get back Emily. I’ll make sure of that. Now go and take care of our girl.” 

Emily struggled to get control of her emotions. “It's nice of you to say, but we both know better than that, Nigel. Like I said before, I’ve got no doubt that Miranda has already fired me.”

Nigel shook his head. “I can guarantee you she will do quite the opposite..” He answered firmly.

Emily looked at Nigel suspiciously. “What make you so sure of that?” she demanded.

“Because a few days before Andy shipped out for Afghanistan, Miranda did something that I thought she would never do.” 

“What are you talking about?” Emily asked, even though in her heart she knew exactly what he was going to say. 

She finally broke through that barrier and told Andy how she felt about her. They were doing ‘the nasty’ right here under our noses up until ‘Six’ left and they continued their relationship via correspondence until Andy was wounded.” Nigel answered, he watched Emily curiously to see how she would handle this news.

Emily blinked and pulled her head back, she started to speak, but then stopped, and blinked again. “Well,” she said softly. “That explains everything that's happened in the last five months.” She blinked again and her eyes fell on Nigel, narrowed and her voice rose “And you knew this and you didn't bother to think that I would bloody well need to know it too?” She barked.

Nigel shrugged. “Miranda and Andy were intent on keeping it a secret,” he explained in his own defense.

“She's been insufferable.” Emily stated and Nigel immediately knew she was speaking of their employer. “Moody doesn’t even cut it. All this time you knew it was because she was pining for Andrea-bloody-Sachs? For pete’s sake Nigel, I've been worried sick! And this last month has been the worst!” Emily pause for breath and ran her fingers through her hair. “I’ve practically been running around like a blue-arsed fly. I thought she was going loopy or starting to lose her memory because all she cared about were those damned calls to and from Germany. I can’t believe that you felt I didn't need to know what was going on with her because it was a secret? I know how to keep a secret! You know, I know how to keep a secret! Who's been keeping your secret about you and the Editor in Chief of Auto World for the past year and a half?” She demanded shrilly. “Me, Nigel that’s right me. I can’t deny that this hurts.” She glared at him. “I should have been there for Miranda, Nigel! I love her as much as you do! You should have let me be there for her!” There were tears in Emily's eyes.

There was a soft knock at the door and Serena's voice intruded, “Emily, Andy has arrived.”

Emily gathered herself and moved stiffly to the door. “You've hurt me Nigel,” she said, her tone very clipped and formal. “I can’t look at you right now. We’ll deal with this later.” She opened the door and pulled her shoulders back and pushed her head up as she strode out the door.

Nigel felt as small as he did when his mother dressed him down as a young boy.

*****


	19. Chapter 19

Corporal Scruggs watched the AWOL soldier; Corporal Andrea Sachs as she stood unsteadily and saluted Lieutenant DeSaix. She wasn't what he'd been expecting. He'd read the report about her action in the Korengal Valley. He’d assumed that anybody with enough grit to call an artillery strike down on their own head should be at least ten foot tall and look not too dissimilar to that bad ass Private Vasquez from the Aliens movie. Corporate Sachs was quite the opposite, sure she’d been through an ordeal but her skin was gray, she was obviously fatigued and she trembled slightly as she came to attention to face her superior officer. Scruggs hoped to hell that the L.T. didn't order him to handcuff the soldier, because in his mind that just wouldn't be right on any level.  
*****  
DeSaix looked at Corporal Sachs. “You've given me a good run, soldier. Time to come back under orders, now,” she said softly, crisply ending her salute.

“Ma'am, yes Ma'am!” Corporal Sachs responded, ending her own salute.

“At ease, Corporal,” the L.T. continued. DeSaix looked her quarry up and down. “Where's your uniform?” She asked. From the state of Sachs’ clothes she looked like she hadn’t changed for days.

“I don't know Ma'am!” Sachs responded.

“Excuse me?” Serena interjected timidly, for some reason Desaix scared the bejesus out of her, much the way Miranda did. “It's at the dry cleaners down the street...”

Both DeSaix and Andy turned and looked at Serena, who shrugged at their questioning gaze. “I was taking some things from the closet to the dry cleaners, Andy's uniform was there and so I took it too”.

“Serena,” Emily said, with her bitch-like Runway demeanor in full effect. “Run along and get the uniform. God knows we can't send Andy back to them in anything that might be considered fashionable.” She focused on DeSaix where she stood, and with mischief in her eyes she took the opportunity to make a dig at the Lieutenant, “that would go against the Army's sense of the aesthetic.” 

DeSaix rolled her eyes at the Redhead. “You have fifteen minutes,” she said for Serena's benefit. “Then we saddle up.” She glanced at Emily and pointedly eyed her up and down. “And where are your bags? How on earth will you survive without luggage?' she smirked, delivering an equal blow.

Emily picked up the phone on her desk and dialed a number on speed dial, her eyes never left DeSaix's as she listened to the line ringing. She spoke as the person on the other line picked up, “Henrietta, are the bags I ordered packed? Yes? Good. And you chose outfits for ten days? Good. Have one of your Clackers bring the bags upstairs to Miranda's office immediately.” Emily rolled her eyes at DeSaix and shook her head as she disconnected the call. “I have access to the Closet, I ordered what I'll need when I dressed this morning,” she said for DeSaix benefit. “One,” she said directly to the Lieutenant, “Don't call me Red, and two, did you really think that you were going to get rid of me that easily?”

“Touché.” Desaix said as she smirked at the British woman.

While the others were busy Andy dialed Cassidy phone from what used to be her desk. Cassidy answered after the first ring. “Hey Kiddo,” Andy said affectionately, “I'm here and we're getting ready to go. I don't know when I'll be able to call again but I will as soon as I can, I promise.”

Scruggs moved up beside her ready to question her action as she hadn't asked the L.T.'s permission to make a call. However, the L.T. seemed to be busy with the English woman—who he was now referring to affectionately in his head as ‘Miss Emily.’—so he didn’t intervene.

Cassidy was very excited on the other end of the line. “Andy, you'll never guess what happened. Caroline punched out her BFF and totally got suspended. Dad is in with the Headmaster right now!”

Andy's stomach clenched, “Is Caroline alright?” she demanded.

“Oh, Caroline is fine,” Cassidy continued happily. “Ashlyn didn’t even see it coming.. POW! One punch and she totally knocked her lights out.. The whole school is talking about it! Everyone thinks Caroline is a total bad ass.”

Caroline was alright, Andy breathed a sigh of relief. “Well that's good I guess, but you know that violence never solves anything...” she said into the phone.

Scruggs, who had been about to hit the disconnect button on the phone to hang up the call, stopped in mid-reach. Clearly Sachs was talking to a kid. He could tell from her tone that it was a kid she obviously cared about and who she was giving some good advice too. He glanced nervously at the L.T who was apparently still involved in a battle of wills with the English woman. He pulled his hand back and whispered to Andy, “Be ready to go as soon as the L.T. is.”

Andy nodded her thanks to Scruggs and said “I have to go Sweetheart, but I'll call you as soon as I can. It may be a while, but I promise I'll call.”

“Oh!” Cassidy said hurriedly, “And Roxanna gave me a rose and we held hands!”

Andy smiled, She loved the girls, with her whole heart. “That's great Kiddo. Tell your sister I called and tell her what I said about hitting people.”

“I will Andy,” Cassidy answered, “I promise! Love you Andy!”

“I love you too Kiddo, with my whole heart. You and your sister both.”Andy said and disconnected the call.

A few minutes later Serena entered with Andy's uniform on a hanger and in a black vinyl zippered dry cleaning bag. She handed it to Andy.

Andy took the dry cleaning bag and disappeared into the small changing room off of Miranda's office that models used to change clothes for run throughs.

***** 

The Headmaster looked at Caroline from behind his desk and her Father stared her down from his seat beside her, both waiting for the answer to the million dollar question. “Yes, I hit her,” she said calmly. “I'd do it again too.” She added with a little less reserve. 

“Caroline!” Wade cut in.

Caroline looked at her Dad and saw the worried look on his face. The reality of what she had said began to sink in. She sighed and tried again to explain her actions. Her voice was calm and reserved, yet she held the attention of both men seemingly without effort. Wade felt his heart warm in his chest as he watched and listened to his daughter. She was so like her Mother, the Miranda he fell in love with. 

“She insulted Cassidy,” Caroline explained. “She said that Cass was a freak and that she wasn't one of us anymore and if I knew what was good for me I would agree with them and then publicly admit it. I asked her to stop, but she didn't. I warned her that there would be consequences if she didn't stop insulting my sister. But then she said something else nasty about Cass and Roxanna too, so, I taught her a lesson that she won’t soon forget” she continued. “Nobody threatens me or speaks about my sister and her girlfriend like that. Nobody.”

The Headmaster nodded. “I understand there was provocation, Caroline,” he said formally, “but we have a zero tolerance policy here at Dalton I'm afraid that I have to suspend from your classes until Monday. 

Caroline looked down and shrugged. “I’m headed to the little room” she asked rhetorically.

Wade looked to the Headmaster. “Little room?” He asked, somewhat alarmed.

The Headmaster chuckled. “Yes you are Caroline.” He turned to her father to explain. “It's what the students call our, in-school suspension and detention room. It earned it’s name due to being the smallest room in the school. And it lives up to the reputation it holds. No window, just four walls and some desks, it’s pretty bleak in there. Usually children that have been suspended are sent home, but Caroline’s file explains that her Mother is out of the country, her nanny on vacation this week and you are not listed as available. Is that correct?”

Wade nodded. “Well usually yes. That is correct. However in this circumstance I can make an exception. There is no way Mr. Franks that my little girl is going to cool her heels in some clandestine closet just because she protected herself and her sister's honor. Come on Caroline,” he said rising from his chair. “We're going home.”

Caroline gathered her backpack and rose from her chair. The Headmaster looked to her Father and said, “Just one moment, please?” He turned to the girl. “Caroline, can you tell me what Ashlyn said to you?”

Caroline looked at him and then at her Father. “It was nasty and I don't want to repeat it.” she said pursing her lips.

Her Father noticed the gesture, again so much like her mother, The woman that on many levels he still loved, but on many other levels, he knew that they were not meant to be together. Their relationship had been passionate yet destructive from the start. He smiled with pride to think his little girl was growing up into a woman, a woman not dissimilar to Miranda. One who would be ready to take on the entire world for what she believed in.

The Headmaster nodded solemnly. “I understand Caroline,” he said gently. “But I have reason for asking and I really need to know.”

Caroline looked down at the floor and sighed. “She called them 'Fashion horrors, Lesbo Dracula dykes and said that they should run off to join the circus where they belong.' she almost whispered. Then she raised her head, angry tears in her eyes. “I couldn’t let her say those things….”

The Headmaster nodded understandingly. “Caroline,” he said gently. “I mentioned before that Dalton has a zero tolerance policy, that includes racial and sexual preference epithets. While such things are not suspendable offenses, the mere use of such profanities does earn a student a considerable number of days in after school detention.” He looked into her eyes. “You can be assured that I will be calling Miss Ashlyn Miller into my office for a little chat.”


	20. Chapter 20

Miranda’s transportation had been arranged from Paris to Washington for Sunday morning.   
She had no choice but to fly on a commercial airliner, sacrifices had to be made when one was pursuing the love of their life. She was startled at the thought, that had landed so naturally in her mind. She had been telling herself that she had to walk away. That she wouldn't add additional pressures to her Andrea's struggle to recover. She had been trying to convince herself that she could wait until Andrea was more stable before she inserted herself into Andrea's life again. It just wasn’t as easy as that, the heart wants what the heart wants, she thought. 

She forced her attention back to another of the interminable shows this year’s Parisian Fashion Week had to offer. The young designer was good, in fact Miranda was pleasantly surprised just how good she was. Orla Frostrop was new on the scene. Her talent raw, but it also showed intelligence, and that meant she had potential. Miranda was impressed that she had found a niche in market that was often overlooked by designers, a gap that she had been daring enough to bridge, in such a bold forum. It was couture for women of a certain age, those with lots of disposable income and a conservative view of fashion. Miranda gazed at the current elegant ensemble as it floated past and nodded in approval..

Miranda's mind again drifted away from the show and returned to Andrea. If it hadn't have been for General Keiffer she likely would not have known about Andrea's survival or where the Army had sent her afterwards. Without that information and in light of Andrea's amnesia, Miranda knew she had been lucky not to have been erased altogether from Andrea’s life. If Andrea's mother Janet had got to her first then Miranda knew she may never have seen Andrea again. She owed General Keiffer a great debt and she'd promised him on the telephone that his favor would not be forgotten. She glanced again at the models moving down the runway and the memory of meeting him and his wife at the MOMA fashion event popped into her head. His wife, a plump little hausfrau type, had been wearing off the rack. They had discussed fashion for a brief moment and his wife, with stars in her eyes, told her she was a fan of Runway. She closed her eyes and visualized the woman she had met. The cogs in her mind turned, and she suddenly had an idea. “Emily,” she said over her shoulder to her worse-than-useless Second Assistant, this incompetent excuse for a girl would never earn the right to be addressed by her own name. At the rate she was going, she would be lucky to make it through the trip. “Arrange a meeting with Ms. Frostrop. Tell her I want to feature a piece or two of her work in the January edition. Then inform her that I want to purchase this entire collection in a size ten. Charge it to my personal account and have it packed, ready to leave with me on Sunday morning. Stop by my room tonight before dinner, for the delivery address, oh and pick up a tasteful 'thank you' card while you’re at it.”

*****

After nearly ten frustrating minutes in the dressing room attempting to get out of her clothes and into her uniform, Andy was grateful for Emily's soft knock on the door and quiet offer of help. She was getting better with her mechanical hook hand but buttons and zippers were still a challenge. 

Emily slipped inside the dressing room. The English woman's hand were gentle and kind as she helped Andy put herself to rights and in moments she had Andy giggling as Emily rolled her eyes in mournful consideration of what Andy was being forced to wear. 

Andy smiled at the Brit as Emily's hands helped loop her belt and fasten it at her waist. Emily returned the smile an for a brief second the notion of a romantic relationship with her friend Andy didn't seem so far fetched.

DeSaix watched the red head slip into the changing room and she felt jealousy stir deep in her gut. According to what Emily had told her Sachs was straight, but Emily wasn't and it wouldn't be the first time that a gay woman fell hard for a straight one. The sound of Sachs giggling from inside the dressing room cinched it. Before she could think about her actions, Lieutenant DeSaix was banging on the door. “Saddle up, Sachs,” she barked sharply. “Time to be on the road.”

Andy limped out of the dressing room. She had not taken any pain medication since she had ran out the day before and the pain was now constant instead of a dull ache as it had been previously. The room remained silent as DeSaix motioned for Andy to proceed out of the office. Emily, after receiving a rather pointed look from DeSaix, quickly gathered her luggage and started to follow, but found herself struggling with the large suitcase and garment bag that had been prepared for her. She was surprised when large meaty hands relieved her of the burden. It seemed that Scruggs had his uses, she thought as she watched him handle the bags as if they weighed nothing at all. She smiled at the big man and he smiled back.

*****

Caroline watched the world go by from the car window. She hadn't said much to her Father since they had left the school building. She knew she was ‘in for it’. Her Mother was going to be furious. She had always told them that you did not hit. Violence was not the answer, that was one of their big rules. Caroline sighed softly. She sure had bought herself a whole lot of trouble. She was on the outs with the popular crowd, losing the few friends she had in a moment of insanity. She tried to rationalize the situation in her mind. Roxanna was a ninth grader and as far as the playground rules went, ninth graders didn't date seventh graders. It just wasn't done. Caroline knew that as soon as the rest of the school learned about the situation, Roxanna would catch crap from her ninth grade friends and just dump Cass like a hot potato. Then all this could blow over and she and Cass would no longer be on the outs with the popular crowd. Caroline closed her eyes, it was a terrible thought and she knew it. Her sister was happy, much happier than she'd seen her in a long time. She knew that her actions had been instinctive, she had acted to protect her Sister’s happiness. True, it had cost her a social life and the inevitable wrath of their Mother, but in her heart she knew she was willing to pay, whatever the price for her sister.

Caroline's Father turned the car into a parking lot, and the unexpected stop drew Caroline from her thoughts. They were sitting outside of Caroline's favorite restaurant, a quaint little Italian place that they had been coming to discreetly as family for years. She looked up at her father, confused.

“I'm not your mother.” he said softly, his eyes meeting hers. “Sometimes you've gotta fight for what's right. And I'll tell you a little secret,” he offered conspiratorially, “sometimes, not often mind you, but sometimes, knocking them on their ass is the right thing to do.” He opened his car door. “I'm going to get lunch. You coming or what?”

*****

Cassidy and Roxanna sat close together in the lunch room, blissfully unaware of the fact that every person in the room was watching them. Some more subtly than others. Ashlyn Miller glared at them sullenly through narrowed eyes from her place at the popular table. She was deeply bitter over the fact that the Headmaster had given her ten days of detention after a girl she thought she had under her thumb had slapped her hard enough to knock her down. She had been humiliated and her power base had been threatened. She was going to find a way to get even, if it was the last thing she did!

Amidst the many spying eyes, another figure sat alone at his table covertly watching the scene. Ian Sutherland was the type of boy who could write his own ticket in life. In ninth grade, he was a sporting hero. He was Captain of the rugby team, Captain of the track team, and one of the best soccer players on the squad. Many of the girls at the school considered him to be the most eligible guy at Dalton and most of the girls dreamed that he would ask them out on a date. Strangely, outside of the sports cocoon, he was something of a loner and shunned the constant advances of the popular crowd, preferring his studies to their companionship. He smiled to himself as he finished his cup of tea and gathered his things together. He'd go spend the rest of his lunch in the library, he thought. He had a history paper coming due but recent events had caused him to feel his muse on him strongly and decided he'd try his hand at a few lines of verse instead.

*****

Richard Sachs was deeply disappointed to arrive at the Runway offices just minutes after his daughter had departed in the custody of the Military Police. He had been buried under the paperwork he’d needed to submit at the courts after Emily’s case and the Runway team hadn’t been able to stall the Military any longer than they had. Not only was he sad that he hadn’t been able to see her, but he also was concerned that neither Nigel or Serena knew where they were taking her. He was comforted by the fact that her friend Emily—a friend who had been willing to be incarcerated to protect his daughter—had gone with her. He decided to be patient, hoping that Emily would call and let them know what was happening as soon as she could. He smiled as Serena,--who, in his opinion, was an absolute vision that morning—tried to take his mind off the situation by suggesting that the two of them go and have a bite of lunch.

*****

Bella, stalked the catwalk in a late afternoon show like some magnificent predator, exuding her raw sensual magic. She was a natural and had done these shows a hundred times over, so much so that they no longer required her attention. She peeked out into the crowd as soon as she cleared the curtains to backstage and found only one person of interest in the audience. Miranda was there in the front row. Miranda—the Italian beauty mused as she put an extra swish into her hips as she prepared to take her next stroll down the catwalk—the one that got away. She made her turn with a flourish at the bottom of the catwalk and smiled invitingly at Miranda. She had made up her mind; she would invite the American Fashion Queen for dinner that night in her hotel suite. It would be easy enough to get Miranda to attend. She'd simply have her assistant, Lucrezia hint of a possible change of mind about the multi-page spread in American Runway when she delivered the invitation to dine.

*****

Wade tried desperately hard not to show the utter shock on his face as his daughter had answered his question. His surprise had come in sort of a one-two punch, after he had simply inquired about Cassidy’s ‘girlfriend’. Finding out that his daughter was apparently attracted to her own sex was a little bit of a surprise. It was not something he had ever considered and quite frankly he still imagined them playing with Barbies and roller-skates not dating, regardless of the sexual preference. However, this news hadn’t completely knocked him off his feet. The real shock came when he learned that his ex-wife was also involved with a woman. This snippet from his daughter had totally blindsided him. Miranda had never been anything but brutally honest with him during their relationship. He was aware that she had, in her distant past, slept with women and had a long term relationship with one. However, from what she had told him about the demise of that relationship and the bad blood that had been spilt made him believe that she'd never again consider another woman as a paramour. Even now after near twenty-five years, the once lovers Jacqueline and Miranda, were still the bitterest of enemies. 

He listened intensely as his daughter explained the currently situation. As she confessed all from, Andy's heroic act to her loss of limbs, the amnesia, how she had run away from the hospital in Washington and come to find them—even though she didn’t remember them—their active participation in hiding an AWOL soldier and to top it all off, the fact that his ex-wife, Miranda had been kept in the dark this entire time. He decided in that moment that she was, in all the best senses, her mother's daughter.

He looked at her across the table and smiled at her. “So what now?” He asked gently.

Caroline looked at him confused. “They've taken her back. She says that she'll likely have to stay with them awhile.” She looked down, frowning “In someplace called the stockade, that doesn’t sound like a good place does it Daddy?”

He felt his heart warm as he heard her call him Daddy again. He shook his head. “Caroline, her troubles with the Army will be short term. You obviously care about her dearly. She's going to need you a lot more when she returns. You need to understand that what happened to her, in the war and afterwards has been life altering. If you truly want to take care of her you should be looking longer term. Looking at what you can do to help her adjust to her new life without her limbs or her memory.

Caroline looked up hopefully at her father. “I don't know what to do.” she said in a small voice. “Will you help me?”

He smiled across the table, tears in his eyes. “Of course I will Baby. I’m your Dad, that's what I'm here for.”

*****

After four and a half hours driving Scrugg's stomach rumbled in the quiet of the car to remind them all that it was approaching dinner time. The Lieutenant glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “Hungry Corporal?” she asked. 

He looked embarrassed. “Always, Ma'am.” he replied sheepishly.

DeSaix smiled and glanced into the back seat. “We're coming up on Baltimore. I know a great seafood place to eat in the inner harbor. That sound alright with you two?”

For Andy, food was the last thing on her mind. She hurt like hell in her mind, body and soul. Every minute and every mile away that passed was another mile away from Miranda and the girls. “What ever the L.T. prefers, Ma'am.” Andy answered absently.

Emily, who had been mostly silent for the duration of the ride, nodded. “Anything to get out of this bloody car for a while.” she said softly. Andy had noted early on in the ride that Emily must be in some kind of discomfort as she kept shifting in her seat, as if she couldn't get comfortable.

“You'll like this place Scruggs,” the Lieutenant said, still smiling. “They've got an all you can eat seafood buffet.” 

Scruggs chuckled and nodded. “Amen to that Ma’am” he said cheerfully.

***** 

It was fifteen minutes after the last bell had rung and Ian Sutherland knew that he was going to catch hell from the Soccer coach. He was supposed to be on the field now in warm-ups, instead he had been hanging out by the seventh grade locker bays waiting for the after school crowds to disperse. His mission: to identify which locker belonged to Cassidy Priestly; was now complete. He now felt happy to go and take his punishment laps from the coach for his tardy arrival.

***** 

In the Runway offices within the Elias-Clark building the afternoon had gone well for the staff. Between them Nigel and Serena had put the next issue to bed and they were making inroads into the work that had accumulated over the past few days. The PR team had called up to tell them that the lawsuit that Richard had filed in Serena's name would make the Six O'clock news cycle and that they were being asked for statements. Richard had joined the team and sat at what had been his daughter's desk, fielding frantic phone calls from the Elias-Clark brigade of lawyers who were representing Irv Ravitz and the Auditor's firm. The preliminary information they had received from the defendant’s attorney during the filing papers indicated that Serena had a serious case with iron clad proof. Richard had included copies of the video that clearly showed the sexual harassment and prominently mentioned the CEO of Elias-Clark's name. An emergency board meeting had been called and the Elias-Clark Lawyers were already fishing to see if the idea of a settlement could float.

Serena spent the afternoon smiling as she worked and stealing covert glances at the man seated at Andy's desk. Lunch had been a dream for her. Richard Sachs was a true gentleman; he'd opened doors for her, pulled her chair out and held it as she sat down. He was an attentive conversationalist both listening attentively to what she had to say and offering what was on his mind. He was everything she had fantasized about her perfect man. Somewhere, in the back of her mind there was a small amount of concern about the fact that he was Andy's father, but she didn't pay much attention to that tiny nagging voice. It's not like I'll ever expect Andy to call me Mother, she thought.

*****

Cassidy arrived at her Father’s house from school and found her sister on her father's computer cyber-chatting with someone. Caroline had several printouts of A4 paper strewn about her father's desk and a notepad at hand. Cassidy walked up and looked at the screen. “Who are you I.M’ing?” she asked.

Caroline's concentration was on the screen as she typed. “Her name is Amiee Mullins,” she said as she typed, she paused as she thought about what she wanted to say and began typing again, all in the space of a handful of heartbeats.

Cassidy scrunched her face in thought. “We don't know anyone named Amiee,” she said confused. A few seconds passed before her eyes went wide. “Caro!” She hissed, “you're already in trouble for getting suspended. If Dad catches you chatting on line with some stranger he'll ground you for life!”

“Dad's the one that put me on to her,” Caroline said as she sat back from the computer screen and smiled. “She's a model and an actress and an athlete.”

Cassidy shook her head. “You get suspended from school for punching Ashlyn and Dad's letting you use his computer to chat on line with somebody famous?” She asked, with disbelief in her tone. “Plus,” she started again, “why would someone famous want to talk to you?” 

Caroline leaned forward and read the response to her latest instant message. “She's like a world champion at the Paralympics.” She began again to type a message.

“You mean the Olympics, you dork.” Cassidy said superiorly, one with knowledge to her obviously uneducated sister.

Caroline shook her head as she stopped typing. She began to rummage though the printouts on the desk before thrusting a printout of a photograph into Cassidy's hand victoriously.

Cassidy glanced at the image and her jaw dropped. The image captured a beautiful young woman, in mid-air during a long jump event in a track and field competition. The thing that was so shocking to the young girl was the woman in the photo had specialized prosthetic limbs on both legs.

“It's the games they have for people with disabilities. But Amiee doesn't consider the fact that she doesn't have legs a disability,” Caroline said smugly. “She considers it a challenge. She won when she competed.” She looked at her sister. “I told Dad what happened with Andy, and he said she was going to need us a lot more when the Army lets her go, even more than she even does right now. So I asked him what to do. He put me in touch with Amiee. He knows her a little from events and things he does with his company. She's been really nice and has been chatting with me on and off all afternoon. She has twelve pairs of legs! All sorts of legs for all sorts of things!”

Cassidy sighed. “Must have been hard for her when she lost her legs. I mean it must of ruined her career as a model and an actress.”

Caroline smiled sweetly at her sister. “She lost her legs when she was one year old. She became an actress and a model and an athlete all without her legs,” she informed.

Cassidy leaned in and watched the conversation on the screen. “Have you told her about Andy?” She asked.

Caroline nodded. “She's told me that they're making prosthetic limbs now that are hard to tell from the real thing. I mean they don't work quite like a real limb yet, but they look real. And they make limbs that will let Andy run or jump! We can help her be just like everybody else!”

Cassidy left the desk for a moment and returned carrying a chair, placing it close to her sister, she sat down. “So, you going to introduce me or what?” She asked.

*****


	21. Chapter 21

Miranda lingered apprehensively in the hallway outside of Bella's hotel suite. She wanted the Italian beauty's presence in her magazine. She knew that it would be an accomplishment that the publishing community would talk about for years. In a career so full of glistening achievements, this would be her crowning glory. She raised her hand to knock but something stopped her hand from moving. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. She knew that she would need all her strength to face the tenacious woman waiting behind the door. She was feeling particularly weak and vulnerable, she craved comfort. She knew when she accepted the invitation that she was walking a thin line. If Bella once again offered her the succor of her arms and her body she didn’t know if she would have the strength to walk away. She felt deflated to the core. Disgusted with herself, Miranda swallowed convulsively. When she was with her second and third husbands she would have thought little of bedding Bella. It would have been a fling, a momentary pleasure with no real consequence, but something her heart was telling her that this was wrong. However, if she walked away now she would never seal the deal. The magnificent Arabella Messalina Giovanni would never grace the pages of Runway. She’d be damned if she let Anna Wintour and her pathetic little rag of a publication get it’s claws on her. Runway is my life, she assured. But then she felt her heart sink again as she thought of the woman lying in the hospital bed across the Atlantic Ocean. No, my life is her, she breathed. Miranda dropped her raised hand from the door, turned and walked away.

*****

Although they hadn’t talked much, the dinner had been a pleasant experience for the four unlikely companions. The October evening in the Baltimore air seemed unseasonably warm and clear. The inner harbor had offered a peaceful ambiance and calming sounds and the fresh inviting menu made for a wonderful meal. Once finished, DeSaix, excused herself and left the table. Scruggs was only on his second plate of an all-you-can-eat seafood buffet, and knowing him like she did; she knew she had some time to kill before he would be finished. She walked around the decking of the restaurant and stopped silently to look out to the view of the harbor. Leaning lazily on her elbows on a dockside railing, she let her thoughts take her as she peered into the darkening water. It wasn’t long before she heard the soft footsteps behind her and she smiled. “What took you so long Red?” She asked jovially.

Emily stopped her approach. “I do wish you'd stop calling me that,” she said waspishly.

DeSaix smile widened and she turned around. “Too late, it’s stuck. You'll always be Red to me,” she shrugged. “I could censor it before it came out of my mouth but it's always going to be the first thing I think when I think of you.”

Emily continued her approach and moved up stiffly to stand beside the uniformed officer. With their shoulders barely touching, she stared out into the water . “Andy is in pain. She hasn't had any of her medication in days.”

DeSaix nodded. “I know, I can see it in her face. We'll get a medic to check her out as soon as we get to D.C.,” she replied.

Emily continued to look anywhere but at DeSaix. “So where will you stay tonight?,” she asked awkwardly, “Isn’t there a base here in Maryland?”

DeSaix grinned. “Look who’s been doing their homework.” She chuckled. “Yeah, Fort Meade is here” She shrugged. “It's likely we’ll all stay here. The base isn't too far from D.C.” DeSaix, chanced a glance to where Emily stood, but the woman was still fixed on the water. “It will depend on what orders I'm given once I deliver Sachs to the Pentagon.”

“So our association will come to an end.” Emily stated.

DeSaix nodded, in pained agreement. “Guess that'll make you happy.” she said feeling the lump form in her throat.

Emily shook her head, but DeSaix's eyes weren't on her. The British woman swallowed hard and forged ahead with her stiff upper lip. “I have a room reserved in Washington. A hotel room. I’m waiting for the booking details to arrive on my cell phone.” She said hurriedly. She hesitated for a moment before continuing. “Maybe you could go back tomorrow?” She suggested in a small voice.

DeSaix turned her head and looked at the woman beside her. “I'd like that Red, I really would. But I think that we ruined our chance that night in your apartment.” DeSaix reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair gently behind Emily’s ear and Emily leaned into her touch. “I had you arrested, because you wouldn’t give me what I wanted, I could have messed up your life. I know you are going to be in big trouble with your boss and you're likely to lose your job. But I can’t say that if it happened again that I would do anything differently, you lied to me and I can’t forget that. I’m not saying that the sex wouldn’t be completely amazing, ‘cause I just need to look at you to know that it would world shattering, but could either of us really put that kind of baggage aside?”

Emily stared out at the water. “I had to protect Andy,” she replied. “I still have to protect her. It's what... friends...do for each other.” She turned and looked at DeSaix, her voice dropping to an intense whisper. “I want you. I want you so bad it hurts. You're not like any other woman I've ever met.” She turned her body to face her and took DeSaix’s hand. “You're infuriating and smug and sometimes I want to slap that look off your face, but God, I want you so much. I think I wanted you even before I knew you. But I'll be honest with you now. It’s true, I lied to you and just like you I'd do it again given the same circumstances.”

DeSaix squeezed Emily’s hand and then let go before turning silently back towards the water. God, what a woman! she thought.

*****

Scruggs sat in the restaurant eating the sixth crab cake from his second plate of food. He noticed that their detainee had barely touched her own small plate. He glanced at her, while chewing his enormous mouthful of chow. She was eerily gray with pain. “We'll be there soon,” he said reassuringly after he swallowed his food down.

Andy nodded, weakly. She was tired in body and soul. Her war torn leg ached constantly and her broken heart felt as if it had been stabbed repeatedly with a bayonet. Although she knew her memory wasn’t exactly reliable at the moment she couldn’t recall ever feeling this emotionally lost since high school. That first painful breakup with the boy she thought was going to be with for the rest of her life. At least then, she knew why she had felt so low, what had caused the pain. Now she was just a broken machine that had been purged of memory. It was hidden in some locked database. She reached for the chain around her neck to calm her thoughts. Clenching the two rings in her palm, she quietly spoke aloud. “I need to be back in New York”.

Scruggs nodded and continued to shovel another fork full into his mouth, this time speaking with this mouthful. “Not gonna happen for a while. The Army's got big plans for you.”

Andy sighed and glanced at the door. She considered making a run for it but she knew she probably wouldn’t make it out of the chair, never mind to the door.

*****

Lucrezia ducked for cover, as another vase sailed at great speed across the suite to shatter against the wet bar.

Bella was not accustom to being stood up. Women came to her and prostrated themselves before her. Open and free, each allowed...no begged her to sip from their cup and when she was done with them, she would cast them aside, like a dirty dish. They did not stand her up! She cursed loudly and inventively in her native tongue and reached for another vase ready to launch it across the room. Miranda Priestly would not get away that easily. She would see to that. It would be her crowning achievement. Then...then she could do what her destiny decreed and settle down.

*****

Richard Sachs sat alone at a table in a fashionable downtown restaurant in Manhattan. He fidgeted nervously with his napkin as he waited for his dinner companion to join him. ‘Everyone hated to eat alone’, she’d said. So, when Serena had suggested—or rather insisted—that she take him out to dinner, Richard had thought it rude to refuse. He had been taken quite off guard with the venue. When she had given him the name of the restaurant, he had expecting something akin to a T.G. I. Fridays or an Applebee's chain. He was quite unprepared for the silver service and the hovering waiters, but remained thankful that he had decided to wear a shirt and blazer that evening.

Richard felt the wave of heads lift from their menu’s as Serena entered the restaurant. She was a vision, her tastefully short skirt showed off her long bronzed legs, her hair was loose and tussled around her shoulders and her subtle make-up done so it accentuated her beautiful radiant skin. He took a deep breath, reminding himself firmly, that she was in fact young enough to be his daughter. This was purely platonic; she was simply being friendly to the middle aged father of her friend. He stood from his chair as the waiter led the young woman to his table and once more he reminded himself that this was nothing more than an act of kindness.

*****

Andy had managed only a few moments of sleep during the final leg of the journey in the car. The same nightmare, which came every time she closed her eyes, had moved in once again. It was always in the same place, the smell of burning filled her nostrils and burned her throat. She was lying as usual behind the ruble of the sandbag wall. The pain was everywhere and everything as she tried to crawl to the distant machine gun, that always seemed just out of reach. The Angel was never far away, she could never see her face but she could feel her touch and hear her voice guiding her through the blackened darkness and blinding light. As always, she felt the warmth run through her body as the Angel took her hand, taking the pain away instantly. Sometimes, like today, if she was lucky the nightmare would turn into a beautiful dream and she would find herself in a huge wooden bed, wrapped in the Angel’s arms, with the soft white sheets surrounding them both. “I'm looking for you.” the Angel whispered. “Soon, soon we'll be.....” Andy woke with a start, as Emily ripped her from the dream by shaking her shoulder. “Wake up Andrea, we're here,” the British woman said gently, close to her ear.

Andy felt the car stop and opened her eyes slightly thankful that the sun had set and that she could hide her face in the darkness. Scruggs opened the door to the car and she pushed all her energy in to getting out. It took a moment for her eyes to get used to the brightly lit pathway, but when they did she allowed them to travel upward to the imposing edifice of the North entrance to the Pentagon. She swallowed hard, she had been prepared for the stockade at Fort Meade, a cold cell in a rundown building, not the very hub of the military's command and control. Andy felt a worrying uncertainty in the pit of her stomach, if being a soldier as long as she had, had taught her anything it was that the Army liked things done a certain way. You could anticipate what was coming your way and if things diverted from that path, well it generally meant that you were well and truly screwed.

*****

Captain Jefferson Lee Wilks was from a fine old Louisiana family. He had recently graduated from West Point and as luck would have it, his first assignment had been as a reception duty officer at the Pentagon. As military postings go, being assigned to the Pentagon was perfect for his ambitions. If he played his card right, he was likely to never to be posted anywhere but his present assignment. He would never see the front line or ever need to fire his weapon apart from on the range. His duties allowed him to brush elbows with high ranking officers, politicians, and powerful lobbyists on a daily basis. For Captain Wilks, it was all about the end game. This had been the only assignment in his eyes, a tick in the box on his impressive political resume. As soon as his enlistment was up, he was heading back to his Parish in Louisiana to run for political office. A significant tick in the box had come recently with his recent trip down aisle with Lenore Meriweather. The eldest daughter of his political mentor, Senator Beauregard Meriweather. The Senator was well renowned within the corrupt jungle that was Louisiana politics. Truth be told, his Father-In-Law scared the stuffing out of him, but he was a golden ticket to the top.

Senator Beauregard Meriweather was old school. A conservative, right wing Southern politician, who was as corrupt as Rod Blagojevich and Dick Cheney combined and capable of damn near anything behind closed doors. Throughout the years, he had amassed both power and favor, owed not only in his home state but also the bureaucratic halls of the federal government. It was in fact, the Senator that had pulled strings for Captain Wilks to get though the academy in one piece and get him the posting at the Pentagon. He knew the uniform would give Wilks a foot up and the respect he needed to get started. The Senator also knew that he would eventually have to retire someday and not having a son of his own meant he need someone to mold and shape in his image. Someone to follow in his footsteps, and keep his values alive in the government of the today. He had spotted Wilks potential early on and taken the young man under his wing.

Things were not perfect, in their Master/Student relationship. For example, Wilks had a tendency to think above his station and this only served to anger the Senator. More recently the tension had become palpable after Wilks been careless in a personal matter and created an almost, media embarrassment when he'd been caught by his wife screwing her best friend in their pool house. The Senator had called in a number of hard earned favors to keep the whole mess out of the press. As for the adulterous act itself, his opinion was that men were men and they chased tail, he wasn’t concerned with his Daughter’s feelings he had simply reminded her that Meriweather women did not divorce as it was against God’s wishes. His anger had come more from the fact that Wilks had been so careless. He had risked future undoing by giving his political enemies ammunition to use against him and thus jeopardizing his chances of election. The Senator had warned the younger man, that he would only let him make one mistake and that now he was on probation.

The night shift was slow at best and unless there was some kind of crisis brewing at a national or international level, Wilks was normally guaranteed an uninterrupted night and few hours shut eye, in his office if he was lucky. Wilks had just turned on the sports round-up on his laptop when the Guard at the North Entrance Security called up to his office. He was informed by a rather harassed sounding Guard that there was a 1st Lieutenant from the Military Police, requesting entry with two other uniformed Soldiers and a civilian. They were trying to surrender an ‘Absent without leave’ and all this had been ordered under top secret instructions. Annoyed at the unexpected interruption, Wilks screwed on the lid to his fresh cup of coffee and headed down to investigate.

As he approached the security desk in the North Lobby, he marveled internally at the sudden snap to attention and salute that he was given by the Sergeant of the Guard and the three soldiers, who were dressed in standard regulation fatigues. He returned the salute and stood to examine the group before him. The 1st Lieutenant was a woman, with creamy mocha skin, he took a moment to look her up and down, noting the her name badge on the left breast of her jacket. “Name.” He barked, as if he was stood on the parade ground.

“DeSaix. Meriweather. 161st MPs stationed at Fort Meade, Sir!” She said, at full attention and in textbook perfection.

Wilks glanced, sidewardly at the other two soldiers, but paid no attention to the insignificant civilian standing behind them. He was too distracted by the Lieutenant and the trigger she had sprung in his mind to care for the others in the group.

The night of his bachelor party, just under a year ago had been a wild debauchery of strippers—who doubled as hookers—and an ocean of booze. On that night the Senator had been quite drunk and rather loose lipped. He’d taken a particular interest in one of the strippers, a beauty with a soft coffee complexion and creamy skin. As the night had gone on—over a bottle of Balvenie single malt—he’d loquaciously spilled the details to his soon-to-be Son-in-Law, of an affair he’d had with a Creole beauty nearly thirty years ago. She had lived in one of the Parishes that he had represented at that time as a State Senator. Wilks remembered the tale vividly as the Senator had explained how she had been wildest woman he'd ever bedded, but, then he’d been sure to add that was all 'their' kind was good for. ‘The men were good at sports and the women were good at fucking’, he’d explained. The most salacious part for Wilks was when the man had revealed the existence of his bastard child. The Creole woman had supposedly given ‘it’ his family name, she had had never contacted him again or asked for any money, but he had had never sought her out. After struggling to retrieve the memory in his drunken haze, the Senator had smiled warmly. Her name was DeSaix, he’d finally recalled Sioux DeSaix.

Wilks stood for a moment and basked in the memory. Surely it was as if the God’s were smiling down on him today, he thought. Standing in front on him was one, 1st Lieutenant Meriweather DeSaix, she had the beautiful coffee and cream complexion, she was definitely in her late twenties and her accent rung true with the sweet sound of Louisiana. Surely this couldn’t just be a coincidence, Wilk assured himself. He smiled to himself, convinced that this woman had to be the Senator’s bastard daughter. Knowledge truly was power, he thought wickedly. His Father-in-Law had strong political ambitions. He was a contender for the Republican nomination in the 2012 Presidential race. He was backed by an ultra conservative right wing constituency, one that only thinly veiled it’s feelings over racial and economic equality. The Senator counted on that segment of the political landscape as his financial base, and as such a ‘black bastard’ daughter would most definitely prove ruinous on the campaign trail. Yes knowledge was power…

“What's this about Lieutenant?” the Captain demanded. “This is the Pentagon, not an MP substation,” he spat with condescension.

“Sir!” the Lieutenant, responded. “My orders were clear, Sir! Retrieve the A.W.O.L. Corporal Andrea Sachs and deliver her to the Pentagon before eleven-hundred hours tomorrow morning!” DeSaix just knew that the man in front of her was one of those jump up little assholes who had never and would never work an honest day in the corp.

“Nonsense,” he replied, conveying in his tone, his opinion of her incompetence. “We don't have any facilities for taking in an A.W.O.L. You must of misunderstood the order,” he said reaching for the phone on the Sergeant of the Guard's desk.

Something caught Scruggs’ eye and he let out an involuntary low whistle. He leaned in subtly spoke in a very quiet but urgent tone towards DeSaix's ear. “L.T. We've got a royal flush of Brass incoming on your three O'clock.”

DeSaix glanced to her right. Down the long hallway, came a group of officers, all striding with purpose. DeSaix swallowed hard. A Four Star General, flanked by a Major General, two Brigadier Generals, and a full bird Colonel. She clenched her fists in anticipation, that much Brass in one place and headed in your direction never boded well.

*****


	22. Chapter 22

The group of senior officers moved to the security desk and each of the lower ranking soldiers snapped to attention and saluted with uniformity. The General looked around the group. “Captain,” he said, in a short and impatient tone. “Which one of these soldiers is Sachs?”

Wilks, who had been most distracted with DeSaix, realized that hadn’t been paying attention to the actual reason for their arrival. His eyes darted between the two Corporal’s trying to figure out a response that might not make him look like an idiot, when the answer was given for him.

“Sachs!” DeSaix bellowed. “Front and center!”

Corporal Sachs moved as directed and presented herself before the General. Standing at attention she said, “Corporal Andrea Sachs, reporting as ordered, Sir!”

The General's attention diverted instantly from Wilks as if he had never existed. He looked the disheveled and distressed Soldier up and down, taking a good look at their hero of the hour. “Glad you could make it Corporal. You and your detail come with me.” He turned on his heal and he and his entourage started back up the corridor.

DeSaix, Scruggs and Andy moved to follow when they were distracted by a disagreement behind them at the security desk. Emily had been stopped cold by the Sergeant of the Guard. She was arguing with Wilks that she should be allowed to proceed with the group, but as she was not part of the Military her access was strictly prohibited. Emily glanced up the hallway and met DeSaix's eyes. The Lieutenant sighed deeply and turned to her accompanying NCO. “Scruggs,” she said to the man. “Go help Red, make sure she gets to her hotel room safely. I'll check in with you as soon as I know what our orders are.”

Wilks, political animal and intrinsic people watcher that he was, noticed something intangible pass between the two women. He wasn’t sure what it meant but he made a mental note of it for later consideration.

Scruggs broke off from the group and walked back toward the very hostile British woman. He held out his hands in supplication. “The L.T. says for me to take you to your hotel. She'll call as soon as she knows what's going on.”

Emily stood, eyes narrowed at Captain Wilks. “Look, you jumped up little pen pusher, if anything happens to Andy,” she spoke in a carbon copy of Miranda's low and dangerous voice on a particularly bad day, “I won’t hesitate to take this to the Press. I know quite a few people in quite a few places and don’t think I won’t give them your name Mister.” She turned on her heal and stalked out of the reception and toward the car which was parked out front.

Desperately trying not to smirk, Scruggs quickly saluted the Captain and nodded to the duty Sergeant. as he rushed to follow her.

“She's a little pistol isn't she?” Wilks commented in passing.

“You have no idea, Sir,” Scruggs replied, still suppressing his smirk and hurrying after Emily.

The group of senior officers, Lieutenant DeSaix and her charge in tow moved into the bowels of the Pentagon and emerged into an enormous conference room with an array of blank video conference screens and strategy boards covering the walls. The Lieutenant and the Corporal stood at an uneasy attention waiting for their next instruction. “Stand at ease Ladies.” The General instructed, before spending a few moments to look the Heroic Corporal up and down again. .”So this is the runaway hero,” he said, directing his question to DeSaix.

“Sir, Yes! Sir!” DeSaix replied.

The General spoke to the officer at his side, but never took his eyes from the Corporal. “Colonel Robinson, would you escort the Corporal down to tailoring and get her into a proper service uniform. I want every ribbon and decoration she’s ever earned pinned on that chest, including the Purple Heart, is that clear?”

The senior group of officers examined Corporal Sachs with their stares as if she might be some interesting new species of insect.

“Right away, Sir!” the Colonel answered.

“Lieutenant.” the General barked to DeSaix, “You and your Corporal are on this detail twenty-four/seven. You are her mother, her kindergarten teacher and her Goddamn Fairy Godmother from now on! She doesn’t take a shit without you being there to wipe her ass, is that clear Lieutenant?” DeSaix nodded resolutely. “Crystal, Sir.” The General, consulted a sheet of paper in his hand and continued after DeSaix’s acknowledgement. “She will be on the platform at eleven-hundred hours tomorrow morning in full uniform and prepared to accept the award from the hands of the Commander-in-Chief! Immediately afterwards, there will a Media photo shoot followed by a short meet and greet. Post award ceremony you will accompany her to Dulles International Airport where you and your detail will board a commercial flight for Rome. Your orders are to shadow Corporal Sachs, until the Italian Government is through celebrating her heroism. I suspect that you may be in Italy for some time. During that time you will see to it that Corporal Sachs conducts herself impeccably and makes nice with all representatives of the Italian Government and press. All the necessary documentation is held within this folder,” he said, motioning to his aide who handed DeSaix a manila file folder. “Do you have any questions,, Lieutenant?”

DeSaix, took the folder smartly and tucked it under her arm. “No Sir. I understand completely. I will not let you down.” She answered.

Andy was running low on gas. She couldn’t recall when she had taken her last pain medication or when she had last slept properly.

One of the Brigadier Generals addressed her candidly. “Corporal, you're not what I expected. I would have thought that someone, who did what you did would have more fortitude, more gravitas in this environment.”

Andy drew herself to attention again as best as she was able. “Sir! Begging the General's pardon” She responded, trying to hold back the quiver of pain in her voice. “But, I don't remember what I did.”

The General looked at the Corporal. “Soldier,” he addressed her pointedly, “They are about to hang the highest award that this country can give around your neck and you're telling me that you don't remember the action that they are awarding it to you for?!”

“No Sir, I don’t” Andy replied.

The General, saw the pain and loss in the Corporal’s eyes and softened his approach. “How much do you remember?” He asked gently.

Andy met his eye. “Sir, other than random images and flashes, I can't remember anything after mid-Summer of two thousand and seven.”

The General turned and moved to a chair around the huge oval conference table, sitting down heavily. “You've paid a high price soldier.” he offered quietly. “Is that why you disappeared from the Military hospital?”

“Yes Sir.” Andy replied, “I was looking for the past that I've lost, Sir. I want to know who I am.”

The General sighed and looked at the Corporal. “I can’t give you your life back, Soldier, but I can show you what happened that night.” Turning to his aide he barked his request to the Colonel. “Colonel, take the Corporal to the Media Affairs Office en route to the tailor. Show her the video material on the action in the Korengal Valley. If they're going to hang the M.O.H. around her neck she sure as hell ought to know what she did to earn it.”

*****  
  
Scruggs had followed the L.T's orders and taken Emily to her hotel and made sure she checked in safely. The Ritz-Carlton, Pentagon City was less than a tenth of a mile from the Pentagon. Rooms by the night were not cheap but that was the beauty of having access the company account, she hadn’t specified when the booking team had arranged it and so the cost was simply placed on Miranda’s bottomless account. Emily simply couldn't afford a place like this on her wage, but after her night in the cells, she hadn’t had the energy to argue and tonight at least, she wanted to be close by in case either Andy or DeSaix needed her.

She made a call to Serena’s cell and after no answer she left a brief voice mail message for her informing her that she had arrived and checked in. Also she left her requirements for an immediate update on all things Runway and Miranda.

Scruggs waited in the lobby to let Emily settle into her room. Around nine-thirty he checked in with DeSaix and then went to the tenth floor to update the sassy British woman. He knocked on the door to her room and informed her that he had been recalled to join DeSaix at the Pentagon. He explained how both he and his Lieutenant had been ordered to stay with Corporal Sachs from now on and so the LT had told him to get his ass back to the Pentagon to stand guard over their charge so that she could come to see Emily.

As soon as the door closed, Emily spun into frantic mode. Showering, reapplying her make-up, and changing into fresh—non roadtrip—underwear that the keeper of the Closet had chosen for her. She was careful not to look too eager and so she changed back into the clothes that she had been wearing when she had left the Pentagon. She applied the final touches by artfully mussing her hair and decided to undo an extra button of her blouse to increase the enticement level. She paused to look in the mirror and felt the smile creep upon her face. Her reflection screamed 'ravish me' and she had no shame in that fact.

Emily had just finished replacing her heels when there was a knock at the door. She opened it promptly and couldn’t help the grin that formed on her face when she saw DeSaix standing on the other side. They looked at each for a moment before, Emily stepped back and motioned the woman to come inside.

DeSaix shook her head with sadness. “No can do, Red,” her Louisiana accent sounded sweet to the English woman's ear. “Scruggs and I have been given the duty of being Sachs' keepers. We have to be on hand at all times. Scruggs is watching her now and I'm supposed to be grabbing a few hours of shut-eye before I relieve him.”

She was distracted from her train of thought as she watched Emily suck the side of her bottom lip into her mouth and grip it between her teeth. DeSaix swore that it was likely to be the sexiest thing she had ever seen anyone do and she felt her body clench as the desire sang through her veins. She cleared her throat and straightened her body stiffly, first and foremost, she was a soldier. She had her orders and they were clear. “The award ceremony is at eleven-hundred hours. Erm, that's eleven A.M. civilian time. ” she smiled and Emily rolled her eyes. “See, I'm working on the speaking English thing... I’m telling you because I've arranged for you to have a seat.”

Emily tried not to let the disappointment in rejection show in every line of her body. She nodded and decided to try a different approach. “When will you have some time off?” she asked softly, leaning against the doorframe while quite consciously running her finger suggestively up and down the open neck of her blouse.

DeSaix committed every delicious movement from the teasing woman to memory and it took all she had to resist her advances. She swallowed hard and tried not stumble over her words. “I've been given point on the detail to escort Sachs to Italy. I've promised not to let her out of my sight until she returns to the States. I don't know when that will be, but I don’t expect it to be soon. Also we have another problem Red,” she said, trying to decide the best way to break the news without causing Emily to erupt. “The Brass isn't going to let you go with us. You can travel on your own if you want, at your own expense, but Command won't allow you to be part of our party.”

Emily's eyes narrowed. “You told me...”

DeSaix held up her hands, forestalling the inevitably harsh response. “I know...I know, I had it cleared by my C.O. Colonel Parker, But believe me Red, I didn't expect to come up against General Fisk. He’s a stickler for the old school and he has outright overruled my C.O.”

Emily pouted and DeSaix swooned. ‘She’s beautiful when she’s trying to get her own way’, the officer thought. But she also saw the trap, if she entered the room now to comfort the Brit there was no way she'd leave before morning. She’d been on the go since zero-five-hundred, as had Scruggs and she owed it him to return to the Pentagon so that they could both grab some shut eye before the true madness began. She shook her head in regret. “I've got to go Red,” she whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Emily nodded. “You know where to find me when you get back,” she said. DeSaix nodded in return and turned on her heel. Emily watched her walk down the long corridor and turn the corner before she closed the door.

*****

Corporal Scruggs' had been given the explicit instruction to stay put, his exact orders had been 'eyes on', meaning that he had to watch Sachs like a hawk. As such he currently sat in a small room, watching the broken woman as she lay curled up in a fetal position on a tiny cot bed, whilst trying not to nod off himself. When he had returned from the hotel, DeSaix had quietly debriefed him on all that happened in his absence. After hearing the story he felt even more protective over his charge than he had before. Andy had been shown multiple videos of what had happened to her in Afghanistan and during the strike. The Army, had filed a number of different versions of the fateful scene. There were media copies with news commentators narrating the video action and Army Intelligence reels which broke the scenes down the forensic level, they had also taken the liberty to enhance audio on every frame so that they could analyze every word she had said into the radio. The Brass in their infinite wisdom had made an already traumatized and volatile Sachs watch them all. The L.T. had explained in heartbreaking detail how Sachs had just stood there and literally trembled in silence for the thirty minutes that the Army tailors spent fitting her for her uniform. Scruggs knew he wasn't a smart man, but sometimes the lack of common sense in the Military Brass just shocked him. If he was sure of anything it was that Sachs’ memory had taken flight for a reason, and he was willing to bet that the actions of that night had a lot to with it.

Andy's eyes were squeezed tightly shut and fought the tears as she curled up on her cot bed. Scruggs was okay, he was another soldier and at least until Command got around to busting her down for going AWOL, an equal rank, but she didn't know him well enough to cry in front of him. Where before it had all been a nightmare, it was now a reality and she had been forced to watch it over and over on the huge imposing screen. She had fired that machine gun, she had killed countless approaching insurgents. She had knelt there behind that fragile wall and willingly called down the fires of hell on her own head. Somehow she'd survived it all, but she had no idea how. Even after seeing herself on the screen, hearing her own voice she couldn’t remember doing or saying those things. The only comfort the videos had given her was that her she wasn’t going insane and that the disjointed images from her nightmare had some basis in reality. These were fragments of memory from that terrible night and if she could she connect them then maybe it would all comeback to her. She prayed that the Angel who existed in the same fitful dreams also held a foothold in this world. With her back to Scruggs she sobbed silently and clutched the rings on the chain around her neck tightly in her palm.

*****

After tossing and turning for more than two hours, trying to get comfortable. Emily decided to accept that fact sleep was not going to come. Her mind and body would not cooperate with each other, she was incredibly frustrated with the Andrea/Italy situation and she was equally sexually frustrated with DeSaix. DeSaix had left her in a state of acute arousal but she was quite unwilling to do anything to relieve herself. She wanted DeSaix's hands on her and nothing else would do. She had will power and by god she would wait for that woman. She'd never felt this strongly about any potential lover before and she really didn’t want to do anything to mess up this situation more than she already had. She mused that she was falling in love, just like her guilty pleasure romance novels that she had kept hidden in her apartment and read from cover to cover. After an interminable wait trying to fall asleep she finally gave up and decided she would try and break the spell by going down to the hotel bar for a drink or two. Once redressed and refreshed she ventured out of her hotel room and made her way to bar.

Emily had convinced herself that a woman alone in a bar this time of night would attract the type of man that was hoping to get lucky or willing to pay for it, so she had carefully chosen one of the dark, high walled wooden booths toward the back of the room where she silently nursed her drink. She had no desire for company. The bar was quiet and the ambient music was playing so low that it was almost unnoticeable. Out of the corner of her eye, Emily glanced at an older, distinguished looking man, with a slightly heavy set and salt and pepper hair as he strolled past her booth, The tailored Armani suit caught her attention and she didn’t look away as his eyes found her’s. He nodded a greeting and smiled an oily, uninviting smile that made Emily's skin crawl. For some reason the man looked familiar but she just could place why. Moments later a second uniformed man, whom she recognized, passed quickly but he did not look at her. It was the difficult Captain from the Pentagon who had been both arrogant and useless. Through her back and buttocks she felt him sit in the booth behind her. Now whilst Emily was not consciously eavesdropping on the conversation in the booth behind her, she most certainly pricked up her ears when she heard DeSaix's name and began to actively listen.

“Yes, Senator, I'm sure.” Captain Wilks said. “Meriweather DeSaix. She’s a First Lieutenant out of Fort Meade in Maryland.”

The Senator scowled at the man across the booth. “Damn,” he said quietly. “This is inconvenient. I'm due to address the Young Republican Convention in just over a week and planned to announce my candidacy for a run for the White House. If she is my daughter it could ruin everything.”

Upon hearing these words Emily had to stifle a gasp by placing her hand over her month. Her eyes bulged in shock and she strained the here the rest of the conversation.

The Captain nodded but inwardly he smiled and goaded his Father-in-Law's discomfort. The Senator had been in the political game for many years, he had become a master at hiding his emotions, But Wilks had learned to read him well, and he could clearly see that the news had shaken him. This was a good day, Wilks thought, it was good to have one up on the Senator. He reveled in the knowledge that when he ran for office, it was better to be exposed as an adulterous man who moved in his own socialite circle than lowering himself with Creole trash.

The Senator knocked back his Scotch in one gulp and slammed the glass down on the table. “I'll have to have this dealt with before it hampers the announcement of my candidacy. It will have to be something subtle, and speed will be of the essence. I'll send Mr. Avery to see you when you have returned to your duty post before the end of the night shift. You will tell him everything you know and everything you can find out in the meantime.”

“Yes Sir.” Wilks replied. “You know I'll do anything I can to help you Senator.”

The Senator nodded, eying the young political animal in front of him. The boy had done him a service and proved that he did have the qualities he was looking for in a protégé. Dangerous information like this had value, he was grateful that he had been given the opportunity this early so that he could deal with the situation before it became public knowledge and endangered his run for the highest office in the country. He decided to throw the boy a bone and pump up his ego some. “You did good Son,” he said, allowing all the charisma and oily charm that made him a successful politician to infuse into the words so they would be believed, “I won't forget this when you run for office.”

Emily, remained eyes wide. She realized that “Deal with it” meant that DeSaix was in some kind of danger. She thought about how she could get out of there without Wilks seeing her or should she leave before he did she might be recognized and linked to DeSaix. If that happened she wouldn't be in a position to warn her or even to mine for more information about what was going on. She was aware that Wilks had his back to her in the booth. She decided to leave now while he was distracted with the other man, she rose from her booth and slipped silently from the bar. She quickly chose a position in the lobby from where she could discreetly watch the doorway to the room. She gripped her cell phone tightly and cursed herself as she realized that she had never taken DeSaix's number.

Ten minutes later she watched the Captain leave the bar and immediately exit the hotel. She was now determined to confront the other man. To learn who he was and why—if he was her father—did he need to ‘deal with her’? Remembering his oily smile and his sleazy come-hither manner she decided on deception as the ploy to be used. She once again unbuttoned an extra button on her blouse and added a little extra swish to her hips as she crossed the lobby to re-entered the bar.

*****


	23. Chapter 23

Arabella Messalina Giovanni’s plan was simple. She would breakfast with her Assistant in the Hotel le Bristol. Which—as coincidence would have it—just so happened to be where Miranda Priestly was staying. Miranda would come down for breakfast and Bella would invite her to join her table. She would then proceed to seduce the woman. The morning and a good part of the afternoon would be spent in Miranda’s hotel suite, where Bella would show Miranda just what she had been missing in the bedroom. Once she’d had her wicked way, Bella could then rejoin her schedule and finish up her business in Paris by appearing in her last show of the week before returning to Italy. However, Bella was reminded that morning that even the simplest of plans did not always come to fruition and as breakfast in the elegant hotel dinning room came and went without Miranda appearing she found her fury bubbling over the brim.

Lucrezia wanted her chair to swallow her whole as she watched her boss explode with rage and throw a diva-fit in the busy restaurant. She took a deep breath and moved to calm the situation. “Bella,” she called soothingly. “Bella, please sit down. There is likely to be Press in here.” Bella continued with her tantrum unmoved by her assistant’s words. “Fuck the press, how dare she stand me up. Does she know who I am?” Lucrezia sighed. “Bella, please. She didn’t stand you up. She didn’t even know you were going to be here, she probably just had an early morning meeting.” Bella shot her assistant an icy glare for the correction. “Just fix this Lucrezia, what the hell am I paying you for?” 

Lucrezia left her employer to stew over her third espresso in the restaurant and went out to the lobby to speak with the snooty young desk clerk. The news was not what she had been hoping for and she prayed for her sake that the clerk had be as incompetent as he was rude, apparently Ms. Priestly had checked out of the hotel that Morning and the car had taken her to the airport. Lucrezia flipped open her cell phone and dialed Miranda’s involuntary drafted and permanently terrified assistant. The language barrier did not help the situation as the poor girl babbled incoherently about being in charge in between hyperventilating into the mouth piece. When Lucrezia finally got the story straight, she began to wish that the chair had actually swallowed her whole. Miranda had apparently called her Assistant sometime after midnight the previous night and ordered her to move her meeting with some new designer up to the crack of dawn. After which she would be leaving fashion week and returning to the States. The frazzled assistant then proceeded to explain how she had spent the early hours of the morning arranging for Runway's Editor-in-Chief to be on the first available seat back to Washington. Her parting message was that she—a temporary second assistant, who had been in the role less than a month—was now in charge of the remaining Runway itinerary and delegation at Paris fashion week. Lucrezia closed the clam shell of her cell phone, ending the call, Bella was not going to take this well.

***** 

With the key members of American Runway tucked up in their beds, Miranda’s assistant was left to pick up the mess alone. Having already called half a dozen of the great fashion houses that morning to tell them that the Miranda Priestly would not be attending their fashion week shows, she was truly on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

It was only a matter of hours before the European Paparazzi broke the story that the head of the most important fashion magazine in the world had walked out on the most important event of the fashion year.

*****

Miranda sat, uncomfortably and discreetly—avoiding eye contact from the fangirls, astonished stares from the BA cabin crew—in her seat in coach on hour long flight bound for Gatwick. From there ‘not-Emily’ had booked her a first class seat to Dulles International in Washington D.C. She had told the girl to book whatever was available but she hadn’t quite been prepared for a ‘coach’ experience. She reminded herself that it was just a momentary blip before she met her destiny. The waiting was over, she was Miranda Priestly again. Mother, lover and icon, the very definition of decisive action. 

The time difference meant that she would be on the ground in Washington early afternoon local time. Her semi-competent assistant had assured her that there would be a car waiting for her at Dulles International which would take her to Walter Reed Hospital. Once there she would risk all, she had done it before and she was prepared to do it all again. She would pour her heart out to Andrea, spill her truths, her hopes and dreams to the woman who was her life and her soul. She silently prayed to a god that she had given up long ago, if any favors were owed her in the cosmic balance, then in this one moment she might claim them and that her Andrea might once again be returned to her arms.

*****

The call woke Nigel from a sound sleep just before five A.M. He pried himself reluctantly from his lover’s strong arms and reached for the phone from the bedside cabinet. “Hello?” He answered croakily, “Why, Nigel? Why?” the heavily accented voice sobbed into the line. While he only knew the man through professional association, he recognized the whiny voice immediately. It was Christian Lacroix. A shiver ran done his spine like a child playing the xylophone, something was obviously very, very wrong.

*****

For Serena sleep had been evasive and so she had decided to just come into the office to try and occupy her mind. However, instead of sorting through the in-tray of yesterday’s mail, she found herself daydreaming about how perfect the night before had been. Richard had been an old school gentleman. He was attentive, reserved and engaged in her and their surroundings. After their meal he had joined her in the taxi to her apartment and walked her to her door, he had made no attempt to enter, there had been no pointed double entendres which would suggest that he was doing anything more than making sure she was safe. He had simply kissed her cheek gently and bid her pleasant dreams. He was sophisticated, a true gentleman. Not like one of the boys of her generation, the kind who thought that every girl they took on a date should fall into bed with them immediately. He was a man that saw her worth and respected it. Caught up in her musings, Serena jumped sharply as a very harried Nigel entered the office headlong for Miranda's desk. He didn't pause as he passed her and she therefore assumed he hadn’t seen her. “Nigel?” Serena called out inquisitively, but there was no response. She got up from her temporary station at Emily’s desk and peeked her head around the door. “Nigel, is everything ok?” Nigel looked up from his staring spot on the desk and Serena saw the traumatized look in his eyes. “She's left Paris! Get everybody, every department head, every editor, everybody! We can only assume she's on her way back here! We have maybe six hours, if we’re lucky, to make sure everything is in good shape or all of us will be looking for work! Keep trying that useless assistant that went with her, I’ve called countless times without success. And for God's sake get a hold of Emily and find out what's going on with Andy!”

*****

Cassidy got out of her Father's car and waved to him and her sister. This was the first time in her memory that her father had driven her to school himself, it was quite a novelty. She thought about the previous night. Her father had eaten dinner with them and then helped both of them with homework, once finished they had all watched TV together. He had given them free reign over the remote and allowed them watch the shows that their mother didn’t while at home. She was a little disappointed that she had to be in school as their father was taking Caroline to a museum. He had reasoned that as it was a school day she should be doing some learning rather than sitting in front of day time T.V. Caroline was having some trouble in her Life Sciences class and so they'd decided on the Natural History Museum, she was hoping to parley some extra credit into the trip and their father was looking to relive his childhood joys within the cretaceous exhibit. Cassidy turned the corner in the hallway on the approach to her locker and came across a knot of students and staff crowding the area in front of it, they were clearly gawking at something but she couldn’t quite see what it was. As she pushed through the crowd, she felt the weight of reality punch her in the stomach and the instant feeling of disgust and fear rise up in her throat. The word 'LESBO' had been painted in enormous puke green letters across the length of her locker door.

*****

It had been a long night, but Andy had finally got the see the Medic in the early hours. The Corpsman had examined her quickly and then decided to call in a civilian doctor that he worked with off post. The doctor determined that Andy's ill fitted prosthetic was the source of the problem, and worked on cleaning and redressing the abraded section on the amputation site. He prescribed her pain killers and something extra to help her sleep. Concerned about the state of the prosthetic and the time frame they had to work with, the Corpsman decided it was time to call in the cavalry from the specialist unit at Walter Reed. However, considering the time and his rank, he didn’t want to be the one to make the call. So he kindly slipped the Colonel, the information. Colonel Robertson then proceed to make two phone calls, one to the guard desk to have the prescriptions filled, and the second to Walter Reed Hospital. Within an hour and a half, freshly roused from her bed, a grumpy prosthetics's technician was delivered to Andy’s room. Several hours later the prosthetic on Andy's leg was been declared properly fitted and ready for travel.

At Zero-Six-Thirty Hours Corporal Andrea Sachs sat down to a plate of truly excellent Eggs Benedict. She looked around the table at her breakfast companions and smirked at the surreal situation. These were not the usual waters that a reservist Corporal found herself swimming in everyday. She had been pondering a question since the night before and in nervous anticipation she decided to speak up. “General, Sir. Just what does the Army want from me? It’s pretty obviously that I can't fight anymore.”

The General looked up at the young soldier sitting across from him. “Corporal, you don't realize how much you've already done for your country. And you can do more. Your service is not at an end yet.”

Corporal Sachs nodded. “I want to serve Sir, I remember some of my first tour. I remember some of my first year in Afghanistan. I remember the people I served with there and I want to help them, I want to continue to serve my country. The problem is, I don’t know how. I can't remember the last three years, never mind the last deployment. How am I any use to anyone?”

The General nodded and put his knife and fork down. “The war in Afghanistan is becoming unpopular,” he began. “That means that those damn politicians in Congress are less amenable to funding it. Less funding means less of what we need on the ground to keep our troops as safe. The Italians have made quite a hero of you, Corporal. What you did not only saved a village full of civilian women and children but it also saved one of their medical teams. The way you can serve your country now is to go to Italy and let them make a fuss over you. Be the hero Sachs, be larger than life. It’s all about playing the game; the positive press will translate into press here and never under-estimate the power of the press, young lady. The press will remind the public and all those men desperately seeking the keys to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue just what our guys and gals in uniform sacrifice everyday to keep this country free.”

Andy looked down at her plate. Her orders were now clear. People in her unit, the people she knew cared about were still in harms way, and although she couldn’t be out there on the frontline with them, by doing this she could still keep fighting for them.

***** 

Mr. Vernon Avery was known about the political halls in Washington as the boogie man. A political fixer to the rich and famous and the low and dirty, he had been at the top of a cut throat game for twenty-five years. If one of his select groups of employers had a problem, Mr. Avery 'fixed' it. His bag of tricks seemed endless. In his time, he had made some very serious career-ending gaffs and scandals committed by his clientèle disappear as if by slight of hand. Although he lacked both morality and conscience, he did have a code. He had no illusions about what he did and neither did his clients He always spoke the truth and he gave them the benefit of his considerable experience. A rich experience that reached across the dark side of American society, and politics. Once he made his recommendations they trusted him to do exactly as requested. 

And so for that purpose, Mr. Avery found himself eating breakfast with Senator Meriwether in a fashionable restaurant near the Capital Building.

“I want her destroyed,” the Senator said firmly, yet quietly. “Her kind do not belong in our Military. She's not fit to wear the uniform...No woman is.”

Mr. Avery listened, taking in the vile words spilling from the Senators putrid mouth. He had spent part of last evening meeting with the Senator's misbegotten Son-in-Law, gathering preliminary information on this new project. He had been debriefed on who the Senator was referring to and what risk she caused to his impending campaign for the presidency. If she was his ‘Bastard’ daughter then Lieutenant Meriwether DeSaix was reason for considerable concern. Listening the Senator speak, his gut—  
which he trusted after his long career—was clearly indicating the need for caution. To engage before knowing the scope of the potential problem might well stir up a hornet's nest. He looked across the table. “Senator,” he said. “I will be happy to look into the matter, but I would advise restraint, at this time.”

The Senator shook his head. “Nonsense, she's a nothing, a nobody from West-bum-fuck-Louisiana. I want her destroyed Avery. I want her out of uniform quicker than you can say Jambalaya. And see to it that no one will ever listen to anything she has to say. She, like all her kind, should be making her living on her back.”

Avery nodded to the Senator and out the corner of his eye he saw an attractive, Red Head approach the table, dressed head to toe in seduction. “Beauregard,” she addressed the Senator in a charming upper crust English accent, “I do hope I'm not late?”

“Of course not Emily my dear!” The Senator replied half rising. “Mr. Avery, Miss Emily Charlton, a trade attaché with the British Consulate. Emily, this is Mr. Avery, an associate of mine.”

Emily smiled at the man across the table. “A pleasure to meet you Mr. Avery,” she smiled as she offered her hand to his. “I'm actually just an intern,” she corrected the Senator playfully and giggled girlishly as she took a seat. “The Senator has kindly offered to show me Washington. Having never been here in your beautiful city before I am anxious to see some of it's sights.”

*****

The knock came on the door of Janet Sach's hotel room in Washington D.C at a little before nine A.M. She was already dressed and ready to go. The smartly uniformed Lieutenant smiled at her when she opened the door. “Are you ready to go Ma'am?” He asked politely. She nodded and smiled in response.

It was odd how quickly this had happened. The young Lieutenant had presented himself at her front door in Ohio just the previous afternoon, informing her that her daughter had not only been found, but was now in Washington, preparing to be awarded the medal of honor for her actions in Afghanistan. Her young Lieutenant had explained that due to the urgency of time she would need to leave with him immediately but that transportation and lodging had all been arranged for her at the Army's expense so she could attend the ceremony. He also complained that that the Army had tried to contact her and her Husband at their address of record and found nobody home. If it hadn't been for a neighbor they had asked they wouldn't have know where to find her. Janet smiled, thanked the young man for his diligence and as she turned and went to pack a bag she lied to him that her soon-to-be ex-husband was traveling on business and unreachable.

She was both excited and nervous about being reunited with her Daughter. The injuries had been a lot to cope with, she was going need a lot of her time but they were also her ticket out the mess she had found herself in. With luck, as soon as the ceremony was over she could take Andy home. It was unacceptable that she was living in a small apartment when her husband of near thirty years was still in their suburban tract house. With Andy home, she would move back in, move the soon to be ex out and rule the roost once more. She had also convinced herself that she would put Andy—quite literally—back on the straight and narrow. She would see to it that Andy started seeing boys again. When she got home she planned to look up her ex-boyfriend Nate.

*****

Miranda, felt the acceleration of the aircraft. as it hurtled along the runway and picked up speed for take off. A few moments later she felt the familiar jerk as the wheels of the plane left the ground and she breathed a sigh of relief. Finally ensconced in a first class seat she adjusted the angle and decided she would try to get some sleep. London was behind her and her future was beckoning.

*****

Lucrezia winced as another crash was heard from the Model's dressing area. Most of the models for the La Perla show had already abandoned the backstage area, for fear of injury or death. It was a fairly well known fact that when Arabella Messalina Giovanni threw a tantrum, one should adopt the duck and cover position. As the rumor mill would have it; a model at the last shoot lost an eye. Every photographer and designer worth his salt knew that Bella had the power to make or break a show. If she willed it then the result promised perfection but her tempestuous nature meant that if she was not happy then nobody would be. As a result, this catwalk show was a disaster. Lucrezia sighed, the people at La Perla would be livid and the tabloid press were going to have a field day. Another crash and another half naked model fled from behind the curtain. Lucrezia rolled her eyes, perhaps it was time to look for a change of career, she considered. She watched as the vultures of the paparazzi descended on backstage and prayed that Bella didn’t say something she would regret.

***** 

By late morning Caroline and her father had finished their slow exploration of the Natural History Museum and decided on a bite of lunch. They walked down a Manhattan street sharing a hot pretzel from a street vendor, enjoying the rush of the city bustling around them. Caroline had been usually quiet and Wade knew that only meant one thing; she was plotting something. He wasn’t surprised when she turned to him with, wide speculative eyes. “Daddy,” she said, “I was thinking, if you're going to help Cass go Goth, she's gonna need more than a single outfit. I don't see Mom letting her wear black jeans and teeshirts. Do you?”

Wade stopped in his tracks and looked smilingly at his daughter. He felt his heart fill with love and mind fill with regret as he thought about the times he had favored work over spending time with his children. Never again, he resolved silently. “I didn't think you'd be the one asking about a Goth wardrobe for Cass, Baby. In fact, I thought you were likely to have some trouble with this change in your sister.”

Caroline was thoughtful for a long moment silently looking down onto the mustard that coated her half of the pretzel, when she raised her head and met her father's eyes, Wade could see the sadness in her deep blue pools. “It's not easy.” she said softly. “Cass is changing and I'm not. But I can't remember when I've ever felt her be this happy.” There was a tear in her eye. “I can't keep her from that. I won't be that selfish. She is me and I am her, that will never change.”

Wade felt tears in his own eyes. “Baby, you are the best daughter a dad could have. I'm so proud of you I could just burst.”

Caroline shook her head. “I'm just trying to do what's right Dad.” she said.

Wade held up an arm toward the street. “Taxi!” he yelled. Then he looked down and smiled at his little redheaded princess and offered her his hand. “That place I got her the outfit in the East Village has a lot of things, but I wouldn't know what to buy. Why don't we go together, you can pick stuff out. We can surprise her when she gets home tonight.”

Caroline happily took her father's hand. “That would be nice Daddy.” she answered softly.

*****

“Corporal Andrea Sachs,” The President intoned over loud speakers before a sea of people clustered around the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. “For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity, at the risk of your own life, above and beyond the call of duty, while engaged in an action against an enemy of the United States ...”

Andy stood tall in her service uniform as the Commander-in-Chief's hands hung the heavy golden metal on it's pale blue ribbon around her neck. She closed her eyes and caught herself imagining, her true family sat in the front row of the crowd. She hoped with all her heart that when she opened them she would see the flash of white hair and the two perfect girls at her side, but sadly it was nothing but a sea of faceless figures. 

DeSaix stood at attention with a stream of highly decorated Military personnel behind the President. Her eyes scanned the crowd searching for the red head of the uptight British woman, who was pulling her heart strings, but she was disappointed when she found no sign of her.

As the ceremony wound down and her husband, Senators and Congressmen took the offered news photo opportunity at the side of the wounded hero, Michelle Obama took her own opportunity to scan the crowd from her place on the steps of the Memorial. She was fond of Miranda Priestly even if they didn't see eye to eye politically. Miranda had been straight with her and her advice regarding her wardrobe had paid dividends in the social arena. The woman certainly hadn't pulled any punches and because of that Michelle had the utmost respect for the woman. When Miranda had called about her difficulties with the hospital in Germany—openly admitting her very personal connection to Andrea Sachs—the First Lady, had taken an interest and educated herself on the young Corporal. But what she couldn’t fathom was; whilst the brave young woman was being decorated with the highest honor the country, why Miranda wasn’t present. She had pulled out all the stops to be by her side in the Military hospital. Surely she didn't care about that silly Don't ask, don't tell policy. Michelle sighed, she could, unfortunately, see the sense in Miranda's caution, if that was her reason for absence. Miranda carried the type of fame that meant her life was constantly under scrutiny, something that Michelle could whole heartedly sympathize with. She assumed that she had stayed away to save both women the speculative nonsense of the Paparazzi and the wrath of the military old school rules. The promise of an end to ‘don't ask, don't tell’ and the fostering of a general acceptance of gays in the Military had been part of Barack's Presidential campaign platform. This was something that had been close to both of their hearts, but with all the good intentions in the world, it had somehow been buried under every other critical issue facing the country. It was time for Michelle to turn up the heat at home and make her husband move on that promise.

With the Military Officers crowding, Politicians pandering and Reporters wanting their quotes, Janet Sachs had only managed a few moments with her daughter, the war hero. She was furious with the limited access; she had assumed that as the mother of such a decorated and revered Soldier she would have been the guest of honor. Appalled that she didn’t even get to be alone with her, Janet scowled as Andy introduced her to Lieutenant DeSaix. “The Lieutenant is in charge of my escort detail, Mom. She is my commanding officer while we are in Italy.”

DeSaix nodded a greeting and judged the need to give the mother and daughter some privacy.

“Italy?” Janet said, confused. “No, baby, you're coming home with me. I'm going to take care of you.” 

Andy shook her head and looked at her mother. “No, Mom. I haven’t been discharged. I’m still in the Guard. They're sending me to Italy on assignment.”

“No!” Janet insisted. Looking at Andy she could see that her daughter wasn't well. Although her motives had been selfish she could see that her little girl had lost something profound, her once sparkling eyes were dull and shallow. She knew that her sweet child was on the verge of losing her light, and if it wasn't for that stubborn streak that Andy had always possessed, Janet knew the light would have been extinguished long before now. From birth she always chosen to do things the hard way, even when Janet had tried to tell her that she knew better ways. But no, she was too much like her Father. “I want you to come home with me now. So I can help you get well.” Janet pleaded.

Andy looked at her Mother, a woman she loved, regardless of the pain she’d caused her. “Mom,” she said quietly, “even if I wasn't being sent out of the country I'm not ready to come home yet. You lied to me. You knew I couldn’t remember and still you didn't tell me the truth about Miranda.”

“Miranda?” Janet nearly shrieked, “What truth about Miranda? What is it about that bitch that has you under her spell?!”

Andy unbuttoned her fitted collar and pulled at the chain around her neck, so the two rings confined to it fell just above the medal ribbon. “And what about theses Mom?” She demanded quietly. “Two identical rings. Only difference in them is their size. Miraculously, the one that fits me was own my dogtag chain when I was rescued and this one…” Andy lifted the shiny ring to emphasize her point. “This one was the one I took from Miranda. Why Mom?”

Janet froze, lost for words.

“I don't know what exactly Miranda and I had together, Mom, but I know that you knew the truth and that you mislead me. You've taken every opportunity to bad mouth Miranda. As soon as I get back from Italy I'm going back to New York and I'm going to find out what the last few years of my life were about.”

“No!” Janet shrieked, grabbing Andy’s arm “You're coming home with me now. I'm your mother!”

Andy shook her head and pulled her arm away with force before turning to walk away with DeSaix at her side.

*****

Over the course of the morning, in the chaos of the office, Serena had made multiple calls, many of those had been to Emily's cell phone, but frustratingly each and every one of them had gone to voice mail. She had concluded that Emily's cell was either out of power or turned off. The news only caused Nigel bang his head down on Miranda's desk. “We are done for… if we only had more time. But then all the time in the world couldn’t put this madness to rights. There will be no mercy..” he mumbled pitifully into the desk. He lifted his head and dramatically shot both wrists out towards Serena. “Kill me now!” he begged.

*****


	24. Chapter 24

Emily smiled through gritted teeth and feigned interest in a tour of the Capital Building. She knew that there was little time left in her favor to break through cracks in the Senator’s reserve and get the information she needed to uncover his evil plan. She had been up all night thinking about how to accomplish the task. The problem was, she had no idea where to begin. Short of bedding the fat repulsive bastard, she was drawing a blank. Getting her into his bed was exactly what the Senator had on his mind, he'd made that clear. From the moment she had approached him in the bar the previous night he had been letching and drooling all over her. Whilst her master plan hadn’t exactly formed itself yet, she was certainly not that desperate....yet.

*****

Between third and forth period Cassidy was called to school councilor's office. She sat before Miss Peterson, the dedicated councilor for the 7th graders. Cassidy had liked the woman from the moment she had met her. Having a mother who virtually kept the American press and their gossip columns in syndication meant that there was often a need for the teenager daughter of such a woman to vent their thoughts and troubles. Miss Peterson had always been there to listen and never judge.

The councilor looked at Cassidy sympathetically, “Cassidy, How are you?” she inquired gently. “You must be upset after what happened this morning. It would be perfectly normal if you were. I know you are no stranger to vicious accusations but never the less slander can be very hurtful.”

Cassidy looked up at the woman across the desk. “I don't think it's slanderous Miss Peterson,” she answered softly, cocking her head and trying to assess her councilor's reaction to what she was saying. “It has to be untrue to be slanderous doesn't it?”

Miss Peterson put her coffee cup down carefully on her desk. “Cassidy, are you saying that you believe that you are a Lesbian?”

Cassidy shrugged. “I know I'm more attracted to girls than boys,” she answered softly.

“And do you know why someone here at Dalton would choose to attack you in such a public way?” Miss Peterson asked.

Cassidy looked up gesturing to her recent change of appearance. “Because I stepped out, decided not to be just like everybody else in the clique. Maybe it’s because I changed my social group or maybe it’s just because I found Roxie.”

“Roxie?” Miss Peterson asked.

“Cassidy nodded and a happy smile lit up her face. “Yeah, Roxanna Gilchrist. She's my girlfriend.” She felt her cheeks flush as she heard the words come out of her mouth, waiting for Miss Peterson response. 

*****

Andy was used to being bounced around in the hull of a cargo plane not riding first class on an escorted Airforce jet. She imagined that the attention she was receiving from the cabin crew was somewhat akin to the life of royalty. The fact that she was being saluted by almost every uniformed and non-uniformed person who passed her seat, made her feel a little bit uncomfortable. Even getting on the flight has been a new experience, as she and her escort detail had bypassed the security gates without even slowing down. That was a first for her, as far as she could remember it was.

“Guess they didn't tell you about some of the perks that come from that medal around your neck,” DeSaix chuckled. “Did you know that from now on you can fly free anywhere you want to go on Military Aircraft? 

Andy's right hand caressed the medal on it's ribbon around her neck, from there it moved subconsciously to clutch the rings on their chain beneath her collar line. “No Ma'am, I didn't know that.” She answered distractedly.

*****

Emily desperately wanted to call DeSaix and warn her that somebody was looking to do her harm, but she knew without the hard evidence from the Senator she would just be wasting her time. She missed the end of the award ceremony, by a matter of minutes and due to the secret service detail it had taken far too long to find to find out that DeSaix had already left with Andy to the airport. She hailed a cab and told the driver to step on it. She rolled her eyes dramatically as he proceeded to flash a copy of the Federal Highway handbook and quote the speed limit. Emily pushed a fifty dollar bill—which she could ill afford—into the driver's hand and told him once again to step on it. After a terrifying ride, she felt the car screech to a stop outside of the terminal and she rushed into the lobby to search the departures board for the flights After more painful delaying moments she finally spotted the next flight to Rome and rushed to the security gate, hoping against hope that she could catch them. But to her dismay, as she arrived at the security gate she saw the flight information changed to closed and there was no way through without a ticket. As Emily turned to skulk away, she caught as disturbing image in her peripheral vision. The unmistakable form of her employer was walking in her direction from the arrival gate. Emily knew that her mind must be playing tricks with her—some cruel trick that only wanted to cause her more misery than she was already feeling—as this was categorically impossible. After all, it was Paris Fashion Week and there was no way that Miranda Priestly would be anywhere but Paris...

*****

Ian Sutherland had been summoned urgently from his forth period class to the Headmaster's office. Being called into the Disciplinarian's office was one thing, but when the Disciplinarian was the one who came to get you from class, to escort you to the Headmaster's office things were at the extreme. 

The Headmaster Mr. Franks and the Disciplinarian Mr. Lambert stood conversing quietly on the other side of the room. Mr. Franks looked at Ian for a moment and then moved to his desk to sit down. “Mr. Sutherland,” he began, “what were you doing hanging around the seventh grade locker bay yesterday afternoon?”

Ian looked down, hiding his embarrassed face. “I was trying to find out which locker belonged to Caroline Priestly, Sir.” He answered.

“Don't you mean Cassidy Priestly?” Mr. Lambert demanded. “That's the one you defaced!”

Ian looked up, shocked. “Defaced? No Sir. I didn't do anything or deface anything,” he answered frantically. “I just wanted to know which locker was Cassidy's and I left. I know Caroline's would be right next to her sister's because of the way lockers are assigned alphabetically. I just wanted to know which was Caroline's, honestly, Sir!”

Mr. Franks glanced at the student's file on his desk. “I don’t understand it Mr. Sutherland. Your record is outstanding. There is reason for me not to believe you, but can you tell us why you wanted to know which locker belonged to Caroline Priestly?”

Ian’s blushed and reached into his backpack. He carefully withdrew an envelope and placed it on the Headmaster’s desk. “I was going to put it into Caroline's locker this afternoon after school so it would be there for her when she comes back on Monday morning,” he squirmed in his seat as he answered the question. .

“And just what is that?” Mr. Lambert demanded impatiently. “More insults to the poor girl? Or did you just get the wrong locker when you painted that nasty word on it?”

“Nasty word?” Ian asked, surprised. “Mr. Lambert, I don't have any idea what you're talking about.”

“Oh come on, Mr. Sutherland!” Mr. Lambert exclaimed. “It’s all over the school. Some spoiled little ignoramus painted something on Cassidy Priestly’s locker, the use of a word that can be very hurtful. We operate a zero tolerance policy here son and we're going to get to the bottom of this.”

Ian looked to the Headmaster. “Mr. Franks,” he said. “You have to believe me. I've been in an Advanced Placement test for History since seven-thirty this morning, we even ate lunch in there; just ask Ms. Ramsey and the other ten pupils in the class. I went straight from there to my forth period class, and I was in there for less than ten minutes before Mr. Lambert came and got me. I haven't talked to anyone outside of that.”

Mr. Franks nodded. “Will you tell us what's in the envelope Mr. Sutherland?” He asked.

Ian nodded. “Poetry,” he swallowed hard, and again squirmed in his seat. “I wrote a poem for Caroline and was going to put it in her locker through the vent...”

Mr. Franks picked up the sealed envelope from the desk and tore it open. Ian blushed as he watched the man’s eyes scan over the content 

Mr. Lambert cocked his head as he looked from the boy in the chair and the Headmaster behind the desk. The Headmaster sighed deeply and slipped the letter back into the envelope before placing it back on the desk in front of Ian. “I take it that Mr. Sutherland isn't the one we're looking for?” Mr. Lambert asked.

“Well, it would appear not.” Mr Franks said to his colleague. “I believe it would be quite the contradiction in terms to cause such pain to the sister of someone he favors so.” Turning to the young man before him he smiled, “Your verse is most excellent, Mr. Sutherland. I do hope you will look into some creative writing or poetry courses before you leave us for High School next year.”

Ian looked up. “Mr. Franks, Mr. Lambert, I didn’t know this had happened. If someone is writing nasty things about Cassidy Priestly I want to help you find out who it is. Just tell me what I need to do....”

*****

The Paparazzi were lined up four deep around the entrance to Charles De Gaulle Airport. The word on the grape vine was that Bella Giovanni was on the move, she was hot property and a good snap of the firey catwalk queen was worth a fortune with the tabloid press. Her unruly behavior had caught the public’s attention over the past twenty-four hours and with her volatile history, those that had been in the business of photographing the stunning woman knew that more of the same was likely to follow.

The Italian beauty exited her limousine to an explosion of camera flashes, as her Assistant and the driver hurried around the vehicle to gather the mountain of luggage. Another woman exited the elongated car moments later and the paparazzi continued to snap up the images. The woman was young and attractive, yet dressed in a business suit rather than the couture that normally draped from Bella’s companions. She walked just a few steps behind Bella, conversing cryptically on her cell phone, as they strolled through the crowd and into the Airport. As the conversation ended she snapped the phone closed, and she smiled a vulpine smile as she reached Bella’s side.

Amelie Pelletier was a private detective by trade, having inherited the private detective agency through the recent death of her father. While she had assisted him on cases throughout her life, at the ripe young age of twenty-one she could not be sure that this was her true calling. She never felt she had any real passion for the work. Still, it had been her Father’s wishes and it tenuously kept the clothes on her back and food on the table. These last few months had been difficult, grieving for her Father and trying to establish herself as his replacement. The name of the agency carried a strong reputation but the clients had often been reluctant to commit after learning that Jean-Claude Pelletier was no longer at the helm. Lack of jobs meant no income. The hardship had swallowed most of her savings leaving a feeling of desperation as a near and constant companion. On that particular morning, she had received a call from a woman purporting herself to be the Assistant of potentially the most famous Model in the world. She was asked if she would be interested in working exclusively for the model for the next several weeks and traveling across Europe with the woman and her team. So desperate to clear the outstanding bills and eat a good meal, Amelie accepted the offer without even confirming the price or the task. However, she was fortunate that the relief turned to joy as the assistant Lucrezia gave her all the details. With the money from this job she would be able to pay her debts and still have enough money left over to pay next months as well. 

After an interview in the Hotel de Crillon bar with the famous Italian beauty and her Assistant, Amelie was fully briefed on the situation. She would be required to travel with them immediately to Italy, so immediately that there would be no time to pack a bag. However, the Italian beauty assured the young French Woman that all her needs be taken care of and with the glint in Ms. Giovanni’s eyes she knew that she had meant it, in every sense of the word. Never having been to Italy, Amelie was looking forward to the trip. She knew through general knowledge that the famous Arabella Messalina Giovanni generated quite a fuss with the press where ever she went, being seen with her could only help her professional reputation. Needing a moment to herself, Amelie excused herself from the table and headed for the Lady's Room. She made some quick calls to make sure that everything would not collapse in her absence. Firstly she called a friend who lived in her apartment building to arrange the care and feeding of her two beloved Bichon Friese, Orpheus and Eurydice. The second to an old friend and assistant of her Father, she needed someone she could trust to be her handler while she was out of the country and Claudette Rousseau was just the woman. Returning to the table she smiled at the two ladies and promptly signed the deal. 

Assuming it was a test of her skills, Amelie’s first task on the way to the airport, had been to ascertain, with a call to her contact in the Passport Control office, whether an American Citizen named Miranda Priestly had flown out of Charles De Gaulle Airport. She was able to confirm that she had indeed left on the nine-thirty-four A.M. flight that morning, bound for Gatwick Airport, London, where she had connected with a flight to Washington D.C. in the United States. Bella was suitably impressed and so Amelie found herself in the first class cabin of a commercial jet liner on her way to Italia. 

*****

Mr Avery released a deep sigh and sat back from his desk. He was working from his office which was situated in Washington D.C.'s Arlington Virginia suburbs. He had spent a good portion of the day on the telephone re-engaging the contacts within his network that he had built up over the past twenty-five years. His day of stroking the strands on the web of power had not been wasted. In less than eight hours he had gathered some extremely valuable information on one ex-Private, U. S. Army Carol Rodriguez, he was confident that she was all he needed to destroy Lieutenant Meriwether DeSaix's career and sate the Senator’s twisted desires. 

*****

Andy tried to relax in to her first class seat, her mind was bustling with thoughts of the day. She looked around for something to focus on and found herself considering her traveling companions. Corporal Scruggs reminded her of the boys from her unit, he was regimented and Army through and through, but what made him stand out to her was his quiet and protective nature. DeSaix was an enigma, but then again she was an officer, who was expected to distance herself from the non-commissioned masses. Andy had noticed however, that DeSaix was even more reserved than before, almost sullen since the end of the award ceremony. Even though she had made the effort to talk to Andy earlier in the flight, she suspected that was DeSaix working under orders and not because she was trying to be nice. Andy wondered at what had changed and then it dawned on her that Emily was no longer with them. Andy knew she was missing a few reference books from the library that was her brain, but her instinct was still bang on. The tension between the Officer and the uptight British woman could have been cut with a knife, she couldn’t be sure if they had done anything about it yet but Andy knew without doubt that they both wanted to. 

*****

Miranda had just left baggage claim and she was headed for the private car to take her into Washington D.C when she was stopped in her tracks by the familiar face, frozen in horror, not fifty paces from where she stood. This was somewhat confusing for Miranda, Emily should be at her desk in Manhattan, what on earth was she doing Dulles International Airport? .  
Emily’s feet felt like they had been encased in concrete, her mind screamed at her to turn and hide, to run or flee. But her heart told her to stand her ground. She was Emily-fucking-Charlton. Miranda had no idea what she had been though this week. She had defied the law, been thrown into a prison cell,and argued with a New York State Judge. In her heart she had already accepted her fate, she had done that the moment she told Nigel that her job was less important than being there for Andy. Even now as Miranda closed the gap between them both, she was sure that her purpose for being here remained true, only now it had been transcended by a more noble endeavor. 

“Emily,” Miranda quietly demanded. “What are you doing here?” She glanced around confirming what she already knew. “....In Washington?”

The English Woman swallowed the hard lump in her throat and spoke quickly. “I'm here on personal business Miranda. Something came up and I had to come and deal with it.”

Miranda's eyes narrowed and her lips pursed. “Something came up?” Miranda hissed. “You've not been at Runway for days, have you?” She asked rhetorically in calm and deathly tone. “While I've been out of the country you thought that you could just desert your post and abrogate your responsibilities.” Emily felt the fight drain out of her as Miranda continued her tirade. “You left Serena to cover for you…badly... and all the while, who suffers? Yes, me. I was forced to send Nigel back to oversee the running of the Magazine. All because you have a personal issue.” 

Even with all the growth she'd experienced in past week, it all amounted to nothing when she was faced with her Goddess . She tried to form a coherent response, to defend what she knew was right, but time wasn't on her side and Miranda waited for no one.

“Your incompetence has always been a drain on me and my creative process. You are a no-talent-wanna-be, with no future in fashion,” Miranda paused before landing the final deadly blow. “You're fired. That's all.”

Emily had always known it would come to this. That one day she would be thrown from the eleventh floor window without a parachute. She willed herself to pull her chin up and watch Miranda glide elegantly away. The tears brimmed in her eyes and heart felt ready to burst out of her chest but she simply reminded herself of the facts. She had known the risks and what the costs would be, it was time to adopt her stiff upper lip and push through. Her purpose for being airport had been to catch the Military party before they left for Italy, but she had been too late. They would be unreachable for hours and so now all she had left was her plan to determine what Senator Meriwether was up to and to find a way to derail it before DeSaix got hurt. She sighed once more and turned on her heel. It was time to go and check out of the hotel, she need to find a new—affordable—place to stay and then make herself presentable for the evening. She had made an early dinner reservation with Senator, there were things to do and master plans to carry out. She would save the crying until later.

*****

Caroline sat crossed legged on a chair outside of the dressing room of the Gothic Renaissance store and jotted another note into the spiral bound notebook carelessly perched on her leg. She pursed her lips in disapproval as another of the salesgirls, who had been pressed by the owner, modeled an outfit. Wade smiled as he stood in a shadowed recess and watched quietly, so very much like her Mother, he thought warmly. Even at the level of this specialized retail store, the fashion name of Priestly was recognized and regarded with a heady combination of awe and fear. That and the fact that Wade had mentioned his intention to spend an obscene amount of money meant that owner had bent over backwards to give him and his daughter the one on one attention they needed, even going as far as to place the closed sign on the front door. Caroline scribbled another note into her notebook and dismissed the flaky girl who was attempting to twirl around. Wade knew that like Miranda, Caroline was re-imagining the combinations she was being shown, but also like Miranda she had little patience for what she didn’t like. The passion was there and Wade wondered if his little girl would follow her Mother's footsteps into Runway. 

*****

“Serena.” Miranda spoke into her cellphone as she stalked angrily toward where her car was waiting. “Your continued employment is hanging by a thread at this moment, young lady so I would suggest you listen very carefully. Notify Security that Emily is no longer allowed access to the Elias Clark building. Inform HR of her termination. Also instruct them to line up interviews for her replacement, immediately. Now put Nigel on the line...” 

Miranda heard the fumbling as Serena covered the mouth piece. Several seconds passed and Miranda became more and more impatient with each second that ticked by. 

“MIRANDA PRIESTLY, WHAT IN THE NAME OF COCO CHANEL HAVE YOU DONE?!” Nigel virtually screamed into her ear piece.

Miranda had not been expecting the response and it took her second to respond. “I used my prerogative as Editor in Chief and fired another worthless employee. Are you trying to be the next?” Miranda responded coldly.

“Don’t be petulant Miranda.” Nigel spoke accusingly without a thought for the consequences. She had really gone too far this time. He had known her for what could be considered a lifetime and never had he crossed the line. But this time he considered, if she could cross it with such ease, then he could follow. “If you saw Emily why didn't you speak to Andy, to let her explain? And when did they get back to New York?” A confused Nigel demanded.

“I have not visited Andrea, Nigel, Nor am I in New York City,” Miranda began, as her confusion started to set in. “I've just landed in Washington and am on my way to Walter Reed to see her.” Miranda said slowing her pace and feeling that something was not as it should be.

Nigel sighed and he tried hard to control his frustration for the situation. “Miranda, Six hasn't been at Walter Reed for nearly a week,” he said sharply. “She left without permission and came back here. She wanted some sense of normalcy, something to help her remember. Emily and Serena were trying to help her re-acclimatize so she would have a prayer of keeping her job when you came back. It wasn’t long before the Army came looking for her. Emily, the same Emily you just fired, by the way, spent two days in Jail because she refused to tell the military police where Andy was hiding,” he continued, raising his voice to just below a shout. “Andy only surrendered to get Emily and some kid,who helped her, get out of jail. Emily; knew you would react this way, but she did it anyway, because she cared more about what was happening to Six than about keeping her job. Oh and by the way, you just fired the one person that knows where Andy is!” He paused and took a breath, and decided that moment that he didn’t want to hear her response just yet. Like a naughty child, he wanted her to think about her actions. “Oh the hell with it!” He snarled and slammed down the phone.

Miranda had long since stopped her tracks, just a few feet from her car. The crowds continued to move around her at rapid pace, but her world was moving in slow motion. For the first time in her memory, Nigel—the one person she truly considered a long time friend and confidant—had hung up on her. A lot had happened in such a short time, she had a lot to process.

*****

After putting down the phone Nigel, closed his eyes and tried to remember how to breathe. He stood from the seat, feeling like he was trapped in a dream. He drifted in shock out of Miranda's office and towards the door to the Corridor.

Serena watched him float by without acknowledging her presence. “Nigel,” she asked with concern in her tone, “what happened?”

The sweet accented voice snapped Nigel out of his dreamworld and he stopped in his tracks. He smiled nervously, and fought the urge to vomit. “I just raised my voice and then hung up on the Miranda, now I'm going to go drink my own body weight of those awful blue Martinis over at The Eagle. After that if Security will let me back in the building and Miranda hasn’t had me assassinated, I’m going to come back here and clear out my office. If I survive today, I may just go over to Auto World and make my boyfriend Jerry come out to his editorial staff by sticking my tongue down his throat.” With that Nigel was out the door and gone.

Serena looked around the office in frozen shock. For the second time in less than a week it seemed that the helm of Runway had been thrust upon her. “Oh my god!” she exclaimed and she slammed her head down on to her desk. She heard the sound of a man clearing his throat and snapped her head up in the hope to see a saner Nigel in front of her. But it wasn’t Nigel, it was her White Knight, Richard. She stood and moved round her desk. “Am I glad to see you.” She said with a sigh of relief before slipping into his strong arms and relaxing into a hug.

*****


	25. Chapter 25

Sixth period Ian Sutherland had Intro to Biology. It was not a favorite class of his on any given day, but today's class had an extra element of excitement. Heather Lear, another one of the nominal leaders of the popular clique, was a class mate. Ian needed information and if one thing could be counted on, it was that those of the popular clique bragged to each other about everything that they did. Heather would know who had attacked Cassidy and why. All he had to do was convince her to tell him.

To Heather it was just another boring Biology class until the teacher started handing out the newest group project, a report and presentation on the invertebrate of the group's choice. She was secretly thrilled when the most sought after boy in school volunteered to work with her on the project as it was assigned. Her mind turned into taking this opportunity and making something of it.

*****

Miranda slammed down the phone and wrung her hands together in a silent rage. She had spent the last thirty minutes being transferred from one incompetent staff member to the next at Walter Reed Hospital. After what felt like the most painful and challenging call of her life she finally managed to determine that Nigel had been correct, Andrea had left the Hospital Sunday night. As fate would have it, the same night she had flown to Paris. But no one, not even the Commanding Officer of the facility, had been able to explain how or why she had been repeatedly told that Corporal Sachs was still being treated every time she had called that past week. She sat in the back of a private car, where the driver anxiously awaited his onward instructions. Miranda didn’t know what to do, she couldn’t—or didn’t want to—process the bombardment of information that had been forced upon her. Her first thought was to call Emily and to simply instruct her to deal with the situation. Something she knew her VERY COMPETANT ex-first assistant could do. She sighed as she realized that she had made a huge mistake. Nigel's harsh but brutally true words haunted her. She needed to find Emily and put this right. She dialed Emily's cell phone on speed dial and felt her heart sink as the call went directly to voice mail. Frustrated she again dialed the Runway Offices. “Serena!” she commanded. “Get me the hotel and room information for Emily at once.”

*****

Andy finally managed to doze off in the large spacious seat in the first class cabin. She found herself back in the dream, the same dream that she had been caught in for the past few weeks. She reclined in the huge bed, and relaxed into the safe arms of the Angel. She opened her eyes and stared up at the heavenly Being but try as she might, she could not see her face. Instead she found herself captured by the beautiful halo of white light around the Angel's head. “I'm looking for you,” the Angel whispered to her soothingly. “I'm coming and soon we'll be together forever.” Andy felt her body shiver as the hot moist breath caressed her ear.

Andy's over active imagination conjured up the images from her favorite teen books by Mercedes Lackey, to form the scenes of the dream. She looked at her Angel. “Are you the Shadow Lover?” She whispered in her dream falling into the Heralds of Valdemar series. “Am I supposed to be dead? Were you supposed to take me in Afghanistan? Is that why you're looking for me now?” Andy questioned the Celestial Being wistfully, her tone vacillating between hope and despair.

Andy felt the Angel smile and warmth ran through her body. Her companion did not answer any of the questions. Instead Andy heard a musical laughter fill the air.

*****

Even though it was an uncomfortable duty, Corporal Scruggs was following orders. It wasn't right in his mind to watch a young beautiful woman sleep. It made him feel dirty, but orders were orders, and he had been trained to follow them. He found some comfort in the fact that he was at least serving a purpose. She was weakened, fragile and to some extent broken, but she was a soldier and a brave one at that. Scruggs had promised himself that whilst he was under the ‘Eyes On’ order he would keep her safe and protect her as if a member of his own squad. He watched a sad smile form on Andy's face as she slept and he hoped that her dreams were bringing her some comfort.

*****

Amelie Pelletier had thought that Paris was the most beautiful city she had ever seen but she was caught off guard at the magnificent wonder of Rome. Even with an entourage of fifty or more Paparazzi, stalking their every move through the city, the experience was amazing to her. From the Airport her new employer had brought Amelie straight to the city, to hit the endless designer boutiques. The shop managers ecstatically fell over themselves to greet Bella Giovanni in their stores. Bella informed each owner in turn that it was her mission to 'dress' her 'friend'. Whereby each of them fought to shower Amelie with most extravagant couture available, all to impress the fashion icon. Amelie found herself blushing as she overheard a couple of the Paparazzi speaking in French and speculating that Amelie was the gorgeous Model's newest fling.

Bella was true to her word and generous to a fault, buying only the best of everything. In a matter of hours, Amelie, who felt like she had been swept along like a fairy princess, had a new wardrobe and enough luxury toiletries to last her months.

After an afternoon of retail therapy, the group checked into the Regina Hotel Baglioni and Amelie was instructed to meet Bella and her assistant for a business meeting that evening. The venue was private and fashionable with some pleasant small talk between the three women. During the appetizers the dinner was interrupted, abruptly yet discreetly by a man who's sharp suit and swagger remind Amelie of the characters from the cult American Mafia films. He stood close to Bella and placed a cloth wrapped bundle on the table. She glanced up and smiled sweetly at the man. “Don Moretti sends his regards,” the man said in his native Italian tongue. “He asked that I remind you that this deed does not go unpaid. He requests that you stay away from his daughter.”

Bella slid the cloth wrapped package across the table towards Amelie and nodded for her to check it. Lifting the cloth Amelie revealed a nine millimeter Beretta. She nodded her acceptance to her employer and quickly slipped it into her purse.

Bella, looked at the man that had delivered the package and smiled again. “You can assure the Don that I have no intentions to call on his daughter again.” The man nodded and left as swiftly as he had entered. Bella leaned toward Lucrezia “His Daughter was completely forgettable between the sheets. I wouldn’t call on her again if she begged me.” She whispered, still in Italian so that their guest could not follow.

*****

Cassidy arrived home from school to find her Father relaxing in the lounge, with his feet up reading the newspaper. Caroline lay on the rug stretch out with a book and a bowl of potato chips. Both of them looked up and smiled brightly as she entered the room. She smiled back at her Sister and was suddenly halted in her tracks as she caught sight of her twin’s face. Her jaw dropped as it became evident to the less insightful of the Priestly twins that their Dad had completely lost his mind. First he'd allowed her transformation in style without so much as a protest—in fact she would say that he had even aided and abetted it. Now he'd allowed Caroline to get a tattoo...on her face... She knew that their Mother was going to kill all three of them when she returned. She let her mind go into autopilot as she considered the options, anything that could be adopted before the day after tomorrow.

Caroline saw the look on Cassidy’s face, but she didn't wait for her reaction. Without pause she excitedly grabbed her sister by the hand, dragging her up the stairs two at a time, to Cassidy's own bedroom. On opening the door, Cassidy had to stifle a gasp. It looked like Christmas morning, she thought, barely able to conceal her excitement, all the wrapped boxes strewn on her bed, desk and chair. Caroline hugged her sister fiercely. “I tried to do it like Mom would have. I hope I've done it right,” she whispered, tightening her grip around her beloved twin's back. She took a deep breath and gently pushed her other self inside to get the many presents.

*****

Emily stood in her five star hotel room and sighed. She had been fired, not just your regular pink slip firing. No… this was much more like the kind where you are catapulted out of a canon. She considered her options for the night. She saw no point in trawling the city streets looking for a room, that could be deemed acceptable on her purse strings. She’d already missed checkout and Runway had already pre-paid for the room, so there was no sense in moving, plus she was too tired to worry about the consequences of not. She summoned up the will to move and begin preparing for the night ahead. She had a ‘dinner date’ with the Senator. It was time to turn up the heat and she needed find out what he was planning. A shiver ran down her spine as she thought of the despicable man and what she might be required to do that night. Opening the wardrobe Emily scanned her eyes over her beautiful couture and she sighed again. ‘They pay you for working someplace like Starbucks don't they?’ She wondered. She blew out an exasperated breath of air when she thought about just how many jobs she would need to get to cover the cost of the life she had become accustomed to. She felt slightly queasy as she imagined herself having to wear one of those god awful fast food uniforms and a pair of Crocs.

Emily looked at herself in the mirror and stared at the dark rings under her eyes, she was about to break out the heavy artillery concealer, but was disturbed by a sharp knock at the door. She sighed at the interruption and walked to the door, wrapping her robe around herself tightly. As she opened the door and glanced at her visitor, Emily felt her heart jump into her mouth and she froze ceremoniously to the spot.

After a long moment of heavy silence, her visitor pursed her lips and voiced her impatience. “Well are you going to invite me in or are we going to do this in the hallway?”

Emily straightened and attempted to speak but as always there was something about this woman that left her in a state of panic. Tongue tied, she simply stepped out of the way and allowed Miranda to enter the room.

Miranda entered stiffly and glanced around to the room, observing the chaos of Emily's perpetrations. She turned to face Emily and without making eye contact, she said words that Emily had never thought she would ever hear come from her Goddess’ lips. “I was.... perhaps...a little hasty, Emily, in my....actions... toward you. I did not understand what was going on and I believe I may have acted rashly.” She looked up from her fixed spot of the carpet and looked into the widened green eyes of her First Assistant. “So, all is as it was and we'll not speak of this again.” Miranda didn’t wait for a response before she began to reel off her list of requirements. “Now I will need you to....”

Emily shook her head and suddenly found her voice., “No, Miranda.” She said firmly. It was small, the first time Emily had ever interrupted the Queen of Fashion, the first time she had ever used the word ‘No’ in this context. To say that Emily Chalton was terrified was an understatement.

Miranda stopped and glared at her Assistant. She had obviously misheard. “What did you just say?” Miranda demanded.

Emily straightened her shoulders even farther. “I said no, Miranda. I told you earlier that I have personal business to attend to. This is important to me, I am not just here to serve you and be at your beckoning call. Why can’t you see that?”

Miranda smiled a cold crocodile smile, After a long week of frustration and ennui, things had suddenly becoming very interesting.

*****

The plane had touched down in Italy at close to three in the morning, local time. The flight attendant had instructed the traveling military party to stay in their seats, whilst the rest of the passengers disembarked the plane. After nearly eight and a half hours trapped in her seat Andy was aching in places she didn’t know existed. She was keen to get on with things but also desperate for a good night’s sleep. Scruggs looked like a caged animal, Andy smiled sympathetically at the square-jawed man, who was chomping at the bit to break free from the cabin. There was no change to DeSaix’s demeanor, she was still withdrawn but Andy didn’t know her well enough to determine the cause. She couldn’t tell if that was her Officer reserve or if she too was caught up in her own thoughts. The three Soldiers sat and waited, semi-patiently, for the other passengers to leave, then DeSaix led the way toward the front of the Aircraft. They moved as a group through the retractable tunnel and into the gate area.

Andy wasn't paying attention to her surroundings, she was focused on how she was placing her artificial foot on the ground when the wall of sound hit her unexpectedly. She looked up surprised at the sudden wave of noise and was taken aback by the sight. There were thousands, literally thousands of people, cheering and calling her name. The cheering was mixed with the brass and drums of a Military Band playing a frenetic counterpoint. There were signs and banners and to Andy it looked like some Celebrity or Rock Star had just stepped off the plane. But chanting and the banners told her different. “No wonder they asked us to stay on the plane” She spoke under her breath. A sense of familiarity hit her as the flashes of hundreds of cameras started to go off, this environment was not alien to her. There was a memory locked in her brain that told her she was no stranger to this.

DeSaix, who was not so used to the grandeur of the scene, pushed down the initial panic that rose in her chest. She was the commanding officer here, she would not let this phase her. She glanced at Sachs and nodded reassuringly.. “Front and center Sachs,” she said just loud enough that only the two with her could hear over the cacophony of sound, “time to get this show on the road.” She stopped, turned a smart one-hundred and eighty degree rotation with parade ground precision and saluted Corporal Sachs. Andy, followed suit and met the salute of her superior officer with her practiced parade ground precision. The salute was held for two beats and then both women snapped their arms decisively to their sides. DeSaix formally turned again and took up an escort position beside Scruggs and flanking Sachs.

Corporal Andrea Sachs, of the 192nd Supply Regiment, Ohio National Guard, took a deep breath and stepped forward to meet the wildly cheering crowd.

*****

Open boxes and torn wrapping papers were strewn around the floor of the room. The girls had toyed for hours over the new clothes, laying out the outfits in various combinations with numerous accessories, until they reached a consensus on what went with what.

Cassidy reached out and gently touched her Sister’s face, tracing the area around the tattooed Seahorse. “Didn't it hurt?” She asked timidly.

Caroline looked confused. “Hurt?” she questioned.

“Yeah,” Cassidy she said, gentle fingers ghosting carefully around the image. “Don't they do it with like thousands of needles? I mean you were so worried about Mom losing it with me! At least my hair color will grow out! That's really forever!” She exclaimed.”

“It's Henna dummy!” Caroline laughed out loud, her own fingers carelessly brushing the image on her face. “They have a guy at that store who does temporary tattoos. It will come off in a few days, just in time for my suspension ending and Mom will never see it.” She beamed wildly at her Sister. “I'm pretty much good on that account,” she chuckled. “You, on the other hand...” She sighed melodramatically and spoke with artificial somberness, “I'm looking forward to your funeral and I won’t have to worry what wear as I'll inherit some of your new black clothes so that I can be fashionable in mourning.” she grinned playfully at her sister.

“That’s what you think.” Cassidy countered. “I'm leaving everything to Roxie,” She giggled and then threw herself dramatically at ‘The bestest sister in the whole world’ and wrestled her to the ground in a tight hug.

*****

Miranda moved around to close the door to Emily’s hotel room and then proceeded to take a seat on the end of her bed. She crossed her legs and placed her hands neatly on her lap. “Well?” She posed. “I’m waiting.”

Emily stood frozen to the spot, unable to cope with the surreal situation she was faced with. She tried to speak but she was suddenly incapable of forming words. Even with the immense personal growth that Emily had obtained that week, she knew that she was still not strong enough to stand up to the Ice Queen.

“Are you having some kind of stroke?” Miranda mocked. She could see the confused look on the young British girl’s face and decided it was time to take a different tact. “For goodness sake Emily, you now have my undivided attention. I want to know all of it. Every little painful detail, from the point that I left for Paris to this very moment.” Miranda made eye contact with Emily and willed her to begin.

Emily took a deep breath and told herself that she had nothing to lose. Her voice was shakey as she began and without any interruption from Miranda she soon rediscovered her confidence and pulled up a chair from the writing desk and sat comfortably and she relayed the full story from the arrival of the Auditor at Runway, Andy's return, the intervention and involvement of Miranda’s children, all the way up to the reason she was getting ready to meet the despicable Senator for dinner.

“Emily.” Miranda paused, pursing her lips. “I am disappointed.”

Emily’s shoulders drooped as she heard the words.

Miranda caught her assistant’s negative body language and continued her response. “I am disappointed that you felt you needed to hide this from me. I know that you meant well and that in your head you were protecting Andrea but I need you to understand that no matter what has happened you can come to me. Granted, I may not always like what I hear but unless I know about it I can’t help.” She reached out and placed her hand gently on Emily’s thigh. “Is that understood?” She questioned.

Emily was taken aback by the softness that Miranda was displaying. She had never seen this side of her employer before, for the first time in the history of their cold relationship, Emily saw Miranda as a real person and not the iconic being up on her regal pedestal.

Miranda removed her hand and straightened her posture. “Vernon Avery?” Miranda mused. She removed her glasses and moved the tip of the arm over her lips. A small satisfied smile playing on her face, “I have an idea.” She announced, grinning devilishly at Emily.

*****

Richard Sachs walked along the evening streets of Manhattan arm in arm with Serena. For the second night in a row they had eaten together, a wonderful meal at a charming little café, slightly off the beaten path. After dinner they had stopped at another place of Serena's choosing and had a wonderful concoction of coffee and liqueurs. He had spent the afternoon preparing for the concluding meeting with the Representative from the Elias Clark Board of Directors and the company's brigade of Lawyers in the matter of the Sexual Harassment suit. The powers at Elias Clark wanted the lawsuit settled as quickly as possible. Which meant that his time in New York and the company of the Brazilian beauty was coming to an end and soon he would need to return to Cincinnati. Tonight he was taking advantage of the free evening and the chance to relax with her.

He watched the beautiful Serena with joy as she laughingly wove some of the flowers, that he'd bought on a whim from a street vendor, into her hair. The effect brought him to imagine her as a golden pagan Goddess of Spring. But, if she was Spring then he was at least the Autumn, if not already in the Winter of his life, he mused sadly. She was vibrant and alive, when he with her he felt as if he could do anything. He just hoped that he could keep his desires to himself before it was time to go home so that he didn’t end up making a complete fool of himself.

Emily's call earlier in the evening had told Serena of the plans the Army had for Andy and his follow up call to her regiment had confirmed his daughter’s situation. She had been hailed a hero to her country, which he knew was every bit the truth and now she was on her way to Italy to be regaled in their country. It didn’t however, stop him from feeling bitter that his soon-to-be ex-wife had known about the ceremony and kept it from him. He was too angry to call Janet to ask for her side of the story, he would deal with her later. Even though she was still his little girl, he knew that Andy was strong and that she could get through anything that life threw at her, it wasn’t the first time that life had dealt her a bum hand. He would now just have to sit and wait patiently to hear from her.

*****

Serena stopped in front of a darkened storefront. Richard glanced in the window and noted that it was a fashionable men's boutique. Serena tapped lightly on the glass of the store's front door and curiously Richard watched as the lights in the storefront came up and a ridiculously attractive young man came to the front door. He paused and beamed a dashing smile at Serena through the glass, then proceeded to unlock the shop door. The young man, who was much closer to Serena's age, leaned in and kissed her on each cheek. Richard quickly cautioned himself as a flash of jealousy flared in his gut.

“Richard,” Serena said softly, “This is Henry. He's a friend of mine. Henry…”, she continued turning to the young man “this is Richard, the wonderful man that I told you about.”

Richard nodded, and then remembering his manners held out his hand to shake Henry’s. They crossed palms briefly and then Henry stepped aside to allow them entry into the store, before locking the door behind them.

Taking Richard's hand Serena lead him deeper into the store. “So, you are probably wondering why we are here.” Richard smiled and raised his eyebrows in response. Serena squeezed his hand and continued. “You've been wearing that suit for the better part of a week. I’ve decided that you need a new one,” she grinned, “Henry owes me a favor or two so I talked him into staying behind tonight to see what we can find you.”

Henry chuckled, “You did not talk me into anything. I am over worked and under paid, where else would I be on a Friday night?” Serena laughed at Henry’s over dramatic tone. “As far as owing you a favor.” He continued. “I’ve lost count of the favors I owe you, how about introducing me to the love of my life? Surely that makes me your slave for eternity?” Serena threw her head back and laughed loudly at Henry’s banter. Richard watched her again and found himself longing to be able to make her that happy someday.

Henry looked Richard up and down with his tailor-vision and grinned brightly, “you look to be about a thirty-eight long.” He summarized before turning on his heel and heading out the back of the store.

Richard glanced at Serena. “He's not your boyfriend?” He whispered.

Serena chuckled. “No, you're more Henry's type than I am.”

Henry returned from the back with a selection of suits draped over his arm and he motioned for Richard to enter the nearest dressing room.

Once the dressing room door had closed behind Richard, Henry smiled at Serena and leaned into whisper in her ear. “He doesn't know yet, does he? I mean he doesn't get that you're into him.” he teased.

Serena sighed. “No, not yet. I'm beginning to think I'm going to have to take drastic steps to make it clear to him.”

A few moments later the door to the dressing room opened and Richard stepped out in a navy blue suit. “Henry,” he said, “None of what you've given me are marked with prices. What am I looking at for something like this?” He queried.

Henry glanced at Serena who moved a few steps forward and took Richard's hand. “You don't need to worry about that,” she said softly, “This is my treat”

Richard shook his head. “Oh no,” he said emphatically. “I couldn't accept something as expensive as a suit from you.”

Serena cocked her head and smiled her radiant smile. “Mr Richard Sach.” She announced. “You are representing me in a potentially multi-million dollar lawsuit and you won't even discuss taking payment for your time. Therefore, I will not even entertain the idea of letting you say no to this” She chuckled. “Besides,” her voice turned purring, “Working for Miranda Priestly certainly does have it’s perks, who says I’m even paying for this?” Serena raised a playful eyebrow and smirked at the older man. “Blue’s not your color, try the black one.” She nodded resolutely, unwilling to hear anymore arguments on the matter.

*****

Mr. Vernon Avery had just finished a brief meeting with Senator Meriwether at a fashionable bar near the Capital building and now he was on his way to a late dinner with another client in his busy schedule

The Senator was accompanied by his current squeeze, the lovely British Redhead. He had asked her to wait for him at the bar while he and Mr. Avery conducted their meeting in the privacy of one of the booths near the back.

The meeting with the Senator had been to discuss the findings of his current investigation into the private life of Lieutenant Merriweather DeSaix. . The problem was the more he looked into DeSaix, the more he discovered that he really didn’t want to be involved in it. By all accounts she was a good soldier.. She was non-political as far as he could determine, lived well within her means and was well liked by her superiors.. He'd advised the Senator, so as not to upset the apple cart, that he believed that her appearance in Washington was exactly as she had stated to Captain Wilks. She had drawn the duty to escort a soldier, to the Pentagon in Washington, so that the soldier could be given a service medal. Her presence in the Capital was simply a coincidence. But Avery knew that the Senator wouldn’t let it lie there. He was a paranoid son of a bitch and he would want to make sure that every avenue was covered and that this woman was out of the picture. He gleefully took the proffered file of information that would, without doubt, destroy the young Lieutenant’s career and dismissed Avery as if he was nothing more than some insignificant Senate Page.

By the time Avery arrived at his next appointment he had fully reassessed his stance on any future relations with Senator Beauregard Meriwether. He was just about the enter the restaurant when his cell phone rang. “Avery” the man answered with his hands free device.

“Vernon, this is Miranda Priestly calling,” she announced as he answered. “I happen to be in Washington and I was wondering if you'd be free to meet me for a drink.” She listened for a moment as he replied. “Lunch, tomorrow?” She said, her voice conveying displeasure. “Well I suppose if that is the best you can manage...”

*****

If Wade Bradley could be said to have a routine that he rarely vacillated from it would be his watching of the late evening news. Even when in his office, short of a crisis, he stopped what he was doing and for a half of an hour watched what was going on in the world. With his girls, up past their curfew, watching some teen movie and laughing in the other room, he poured himself a few fingers of Bourbon on the rocks and turned on his television in the study. A story immediately caught his attention, it was a small news bite the middle of the program, squeezed in between the latest celebrity gossip and the weather, a young female soldier who had received the Metal of Honor earlier in the day. He immediately paused his Tevo and shouted to the girls. “Cassidy! Caroline! I think you'd better come in here and see what's on T.V.!”

Cassidy and Caroline rushed in from the other room and Wade queued up and played back the news article. “THAT'S ANDY!” Cassidy squealed, pointing to the image on the screen. Caroline moved closer to the television and shushed her sister. “What's going on Dad?” she demanded quietly.

Wade smiled. “Well, I don't think she's going to the stockade.” He changed the channel to CNN. “Now let’s see what a grown-up news channel is saying.”

There was a certain tense frustration amongst the gathered family, as they sought the important information but it seemed to be taking forever to get any. They patiently watched around thirty minutes of the news rotation before they were shown the two and a half pitiful minutes of coverage that CNN offered. Cassidy stomped her foot in frustration and decided that it was time to source the internet. Caroline cuddled against her father on the couch as Cassidy laid on the floor with the laptop computer reading aloud to them about the ceremony in Washington and then all about the Medal of Honor on Wikipedia. “So Andy's going to be okay, Daddy?” Caroline looked up and asked in a small worried voice.

Wade smiled at the sweet innocence and concern in her voice and he felt his heart melt. His daughters—who at times, he’d feared were terribly spoiled—cared, they genuinely cared about this woman. They loved her enough that they had risked trouble with the police and the anger of their mother. They were amazing girls. Wade made a mental note that among the things that he desperately needed to discuss with his ex-wife on her return was his children's continued relationship with one Andy Sachs. “Yes, Honey,” he answered. “She has been awarded a medal, that means the Army think she is very important and I am sure that they will be taking very good care of her. And when she gets home, we're going to see too it that she's alright here too.”

The weight shifted on the sofa as Cassidy leapt up to snuggle against her father's other side. “You’re a great Dad,” she said hugging him tightly.

In that moment Wade realized that he had reached the first mile marker on his journey. The one he had promised to take after his small heart episode. Step one: rebuild the foundations of a strong relationship with his daughters.

*****


	26. Chapter 26

It was late Saturday morning when DeSaix woke from a restful sleep and stretched lazily in her extremely comfortable bed, in her extremely expensive hotel room. As the commanding Officer of the American visiting party she had insisted on a late start. They had arrived exhausted and the time difference had really thrown them all for a loop. They had a few hours of R&R and DeSaix had insisted her two Corporals use the time wisely. They had all been given rooms on the same floor, but the Italian Government had seen to it that Sachs was placed in the grandest room in the hotel, it looked as if it belonged in some 18th century palace. DeSaix smiled and stretched again. Sachs was okay she affirmed to herself. She was a good soldier, she followed orders and she was clearly trying to do the right thing. It made her proud to be with her and be a part of the tour.

*****

Andy woke to the strange surroundings, taking a moment to remember where she was.She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and stretched lazily in her magnificent four-poster bed. The hotel manager, who had insisted on escorting them to their rooms, had taken great pride in explaining the history of the hotel and how each room had a story to tell. The grandeur of the suite brought a distant sense of familiarity, she closed her eyes and tried to force the memory but all she saw was the darkness.

After some awkward maneuvering Andy made it to the expansive bathroom and turned on the shower. As she stood under the thunderous waves of hot water she tried again to force the lost memories back into her head. Subconsciously she ran her fingers along her neck line and gripped the two rings hanging on their chain. Her mind flashed to the box of hand written love letters that she had left in her bedside cabinet when she had fled from Walter Reed. At the time, when she had read the words they had meant nothing to her, they were just the empty words of a stranger. But now as she recalled the passion and promise that had spilled across the pages she felt the butterflies dance in her stomach. Her mind spun out a reel of questions. Did the ring belong to Miranda? Had Miranda written those beautiful letters? Did the picture on Miranda's desk mean what she hoped and prayed it did? Had Miranda Priestly loved her? She had scattered pieces of a puzzle, she had hints of what the picture might have looked like, but no matter how many times she searched in the box, she couldn’t find the pieces that connected them all together.

Andy opened her eyes and looked at her naked, scarred and disfigured body. How could anyone love her now? She thought. She felt the tears form in her eyes and closed them once again as she pushed her face back into the full force of the shower stream and let the tears fall freely. She slumped against the tiled wall, sobbing deeply. She inhaled sharply as the cold tiles touched her back, she longed for comfort, to curl up into strong warm arms, to feel safe again. As she opened her eyes and looked at her body again, she knew that was never going to happen again. She was a monster, who could love a monster? She sat on the wooden stool in the bathroom, trying to find the strength, physically and mentally to start her morning routine. She felt numb, empty and ultimately alone.

After a few moments of self loathing, she moved into autopilot and began to redress her wounds as the medic in Washington had shown her and then cocooned herself in the luxurious full length bathrobe provided courtesy of the hotel. Next she laid out her long line of prescribed medication and vitamin supplements. Although her appetite had still not returned she remembered the warnings from the medic about taking her tablets on an empty stomach, so she ordered some light room service. While she was waiting she decided to lay out her dress uniform for the day. As she opened the doors to the enormous wardrobe with the hand carved detail, she smiled weakly in amusement as she saw the clothes and remembered how Scruggs had insisted on preparing her ‘Blues’ for her. He had been appalled at the Hotel Manager’s suggestion of taking them to housekeeping. Scruggs was military through and through. He wore his uniform with pride and he would make sure Sachs could do the same. He had even polished her boots to a high gloss. 

She opened the French doors on to the balcony and stepped out into the late morning sun and beautiful blue sky. Without giving it much thought, she leaned over the balcony to take in the view and was hit unexpectedly by the chant of SACHS, SACHS, SACHS. The sound rose immediately, given wings by a multitude of voices and hundreds of cameras flashed below. The square before the hotel was awash with people, seemingly waiting for her to show herself. She swallowed hard and began to realize that monster or not, Corporal Andy Sachs had work to do.

*****

Bella stood pouting before her dressing room mirror, the floor around her scattered with any number of dresses she had tried on and rejected. They were all wrong, today was too important to not have the right clothes. She needed to captivate her intended, bewitch her from the first glance. The woman she would meet at the ceremony later that afternoon was going to be the one, the one she would spend the rest of her life with. The one that she would betray only once, when she finished her business with the Iconic Editor-in-Chief of Runway Magazine. Oh yes, she would have Miranda Priestly, she would show her that no-one got the better of Bella Messalina Giovanni. But Andrea Sachs would be the one that Bella would grow old with, the one she would live happily ever after with. Tonight, her plan would be set in motion, she would begin the seduction of Andrea Sachs. Bella smiled, reaching for the locket around her neck. She opened the clasped and studied the picture inside for a moment before closing it gently and kissing the locket sweetly. “Soon, il mio fratellino dolce,” she whispered, “soon”.

*****

Amelie Pelletier the young private detective lounged in the peaceful the courtyard of the Italian Model’s magnificent villa, bathing in the beautiful sunshine and sipping a glass of the local wine. Her inquisitive mind turned to her required task. She had been instructed to act as Bella’s personal security, but things didn’t add up. There were large holes in Bella’s story, information missing that made it difficult for Amelie to trust her. At that moment her employer was preparing to go into the city and it had been made quite clear that her presence was not required. It was strange, how was she supposed to protect her if she wasn’t with her? Also from what Amelie had learned so far during her time with Bella, she could look after herself. She tried to calm her growing unease, she needed the paycheck, she couldn't afford to mess this up.

*****

Irv Ravitz let out another sigh of bored frustration. It was ridiculously early in the morning and he was stuck in the city having coffee with two members of the Elias Clark Board of Directors, when he would have much rather of been on the golf course.

Individually the two other Board members held a great deal of power and influence in the company, they were often chosen by the other members to be the voice of the group, but they rarely saw eye to eye. This was something Irv often used to his own advantage, playing them off against one another like he was the spoiled and devious teenager and they were the dysfunctional parents. He didn’t see the point in being there that morning. ‘Elias Clark was a Corporate monster, as a team they were virtually unstoppable. Why hadn’t they crushed this case and the Counsel already?’ He wondered.

Alice McCann stirred the heavy cream into her cup as she glanced at her peer, James Carter waiting for the signal to begin. She blew lightly on her coffee and took an experimental sip as she received the cue. Smiling her practiced smile, she looked up. “So,” she began. “I met with the young woman from Runway and her Lawyer yesterday afternoon. I find their demands really quite reasonable.”

James glared into his black coffee. “Just how many zero’s are we going to need to add to make it go away?” He asked sullenly acting as if this was the first time he had heard the news. As if they hadn’t already discussed this, and that he didn’t know exactly how this was going to play out.

Alice smiled wickedly in Irv’s direction. “She doesn't want any money James. Well at least not directly. By agreeing to her terms we will be publicly exonerating Elias Clark from this nasty incident.”

James looked up and raised a questioning eyebrow. “Ok, you have my attention. What does she want Alice?” He asked, giving a performance worthy of an Emmy.

Alice continued to smile. “She wants us to introduce yearly mandatory seminars on sexual harassment prevention, for all Elias Clark employees. Plus we must publicly reiterate our policy on sexual harassment in the next issue of all our publications.” She paused for a beat, making sure she had Irv’s attention. “And one other small thing...”

“Here it comes,” James said disgustedly, “the one little thing is always the killer.”

Alice sipped her coffee drawing out the moment, watching Irv Ravitz almost squirming in his seat as she again shot him a sadistic grin. “She requested that you Mr Ravitz, be removed as the CEO of Runway Magazine and that Miranda Priestly will report directly to the board of directors until a suitable replacement is found.”

Irv stood from his seat. “This is preposterous.” He spat. “I will not stand for this.”

James sipped his coffee calmly. “Really Irv, I never have understood this ridiculous vendetta that you seem to have against Miranda.” He paused to take another drink. “I mean she's the only Editor-in-Chief we have that brings in a profit every month, a huge one at that.” He sighed. “And this unauthorized audit from an outside firm, was just the last straw. What on earth were you doing, bringing them in when Miranda was in Paris...”

But she's left Paris,” Irv defended looking for something, anything, that would exonerate him from the accusations. “The most important fashion event of the year and she just walks out. How is that going to look with our readers?” He demanded. “She's losing it I tell you! She's going to cost all of us a fortune. We need to dump her before that happ...”

Alice sighed. “Irv,” she said interrupting him, “It seems we are in a bit of a bind here. We either remove you as the Chief Executive Officer of Runway and move you to another publication with your reputation in one piece or we refuse to act on the demands and this case goes public. If that happens we will end up having to write out a seven or eight figure check and sacrifice a Senior Executive to act as the Scapegoat for our Zero tolerance policy... So I, for one, suggest that you shut up, take your defeat gracefully and accept that the Board is in agreement. We need Miranda more than we need you.”

James nodded solemnly.

*****

Olivia Keiffer was a woman who had lived all her life in the Army’s back yard. Her Father had been an officer and she had lived the lonely life of an Army brat moving from post to post. Naturally she had married a soldier, falling head over heels for a handsome young officer and marrying him on her twentieth birthday. Thirty years later and still very much in love, she was the perfect officer’s wife. She'd never expected him to rise to the rank of General, certainly not to the exalted position of a Joint Chief of Staff in Washington. Not that her husband hadn’t worked for it and didn’t deserve it, he was a hard working and honest man. But they had both remained humble throughout his rise through the ranks and although she had never wanted for anything, she had always chosen to spend her time helping worthy causes rather than frivolously shopping and lunching with the other officers wives.

Pottering around the kitchen of their newest posting on base, Olivia had just finished beating a homemade pancake batter and started a fresh pot of coffee as she waited for her husband to comeback from his early morning PT session with Alpha Company. She was just about to start grilling the rashers of bacon when the front doorbell rang.

*****

General Allen Keiffer strolled onto the porch smelling the fresh coffee as he opened the front door. The last thing he expected to see was the paper and cardboard chaos that filled in his Living Room. Open boxes and mountains of clothes were strewn everywhere and the oval full length mirror from their bedroom stood in the center. Olivia stood among scattered clothing examining herself proudly as she twirled in a outfit he'd never seen before. He had fallen in love with his wife the moment they'd met, it had been love at first sight and now if it was possible he was sure he had just fallen in love with her all over again. She looked so happy and excited, he couldn’t help but sweep in and wrap his arms around her, giving her a big kiss. “Al!” She exclaimed. “You’re all sweaty, you’re going to mess up my couture!” she shrieked playfully. “I thought you were my breakfast honey.” He quipped tapping her ass and nuzzling her neck. “Get off you big oaf.” She giggled. He reluctantly released his hug and kissed the tip of her nose. “Are you going to tell me where all this came from or are you going to make me guess?”

*****

Captain Wilks entered Senator Merriweather’s office, a huge and lavishly decorated room, buried in the inner sanctum of Washington. He found the Senator sitting behind his desk, casually reading the newspaper and sipping his morning coffee. “Senator,” Wilks called out announcing his arrival, “I've found the information you wanted.” The Senator, putting down the paper, gave his attention to his young protégé. “Carol Rodriguez isn't in the Army anymore. She was dishonorably discharge four months ago, the file states Bad Conduct. She's living in Charlotte, North Carolina.”

The Senator took another sip of his coffee. “Excellent,” he responded. He pressed the button on the intercom on his desk. “Betty,” he said to his secretary, “tell Phillip to step into my office, I have an urgent matter for him to attend to. ”

*****

Caroline and Cassidy, rousted Wade out of his bed at what he considered god-awful early on Saturday. They had decided on a project they were excited about and wanted his help with it. Pulling him out of bed and pushing a large cup of coffee under his nose, they explained how they had already been up for hours doing some intense research on artificial limbs. Still half asleep, Wade descended the stairs and shook his head in despair at the bombsite that used to be his living room. The twins, trying to be methodical, were creating a chart on what legs and arms they thought Andy would need to make her life complete. For their efforts the chart was quite comprehensive, they knew a few things about Andy that helped. They knew she had liked to run and stay in shape, so a leg designed for running was a must. They made the assumption that Andy would, at times, want to wear short sleeve fashions and skirts, so a cosmetic arm and leg were part of the list they were building. It appeared that Caroline had been in charge of the itemization and budget on their presentation. She had begun to try and research what benefits the Veteran's Administration would allow for a disabled soldier and how much money they would pay out towards Andy getting what she needed to live a full life.

Bored with the math and not able to get at the keyboard, Cassidy began to apply her makeup at the mirror above the fireplace. Wade watched his daughter, as she carefully applied the rice powder concealer over her lovely freckles. Internally he had to admit that he didn't like the Goth look on his little girl. To him, it made her look like a porcelain doll rather that the active sports loving child he had known, but, he told himself, this wasn’t the first time that one of his girls had tried to break out and find their individuality. She was trying to find herself and this was a step in that direction. Caroline had told him that she was as happy as she could ever remember her being. All he wanted was to see them happy and no matter what his reservations were he would support the change in his daughter. His ex-wife however, was a different story. Miranda was a woman of very strong opinions. He knew that Cassidy was going to need his complete and total support. An interdiction with Miranda would be necessary before she saw the new Cassidy. To make that happen and have a prayer of success he knew he needed to know the whole picture. “Cassidy,” he said softly, “why don't we see about taking your girlfriend out to dinner tonight. I'd like to meet her.”

*****

General Keiffer tarried a moment after the morning briefing with the President and the Joint Chiefs of Staff. He’d hoped to catch the Commander-in-Chief alone for a few precious moments to express his concerns over the expected outcome of the ‘good will’ mission to Italy, and some new information that had come to light. Even though the reports of what was happening in the world at large were mostly positive, as far as U.S. interests were concerned. The Pentagon was buzzing over reports from the world press, which showed that Italy and several other large European countries, were responding well to the story of Corporal Sachs and the American recognition of her bravery. Discreet polling in Italy, since her arrival, had found that overall her actions had been responsible for boosting the support of the US, and the Middle Eastern efforts. Now the story was beginning to garner interest in the American Press. General Keiffer was sure that this was exactly what the Pentagon had hoped for when it had conceived of the mission.

General Keiffer had been an officer for more than thirty years. He had succeeded where others had failed because of his ability to think outside of the box. Corporal Sachs had been on his radar ever since he had received that call, the call from one of the most powerful women in America, Miranda Priestly. Miranda had some undefined but compelling connection to Sachs. She was a woman of influence and power, she was very much used to getting her own way. He had discovered that morning, for his small part in locating the wounded solider Miranda had immediately sought to repay him. It was a gift which far exceeded the value of the information provided. He wanted to believe that the gift, which had made his wife so happy, had been filled with only good intentions. But, he had a feeling that by accepting it he was now another pawn on her board, waiting to be used and sacrificed for the Queen. He had spent the rest of the morning looking into the history and connection between the two women but his sources had drawn a blank. However they hadn’t returned completely empty handed, the General learned that interestingly, Miranda was in Washington. She had recently cause a stir by leaving an important event and flown into the city quite unexpectedly. He’d thought about the situation carefully, was it all coincidence? He had a strong intuition that the mission was in danger, Miranda Priestly was wild card. One couldn’t accurately calculate the odds when an uncontrollable variant was entered into the equation, a variable that could not be contained. “Mr. President,” he said aloud as the Commander in Chief was leaving the room, “A moment of your time please...”

*****

Vernon Avery stood before a mirror in his office, whistling a tune and tying a careful Windsor knot into his tie. Lunch with Miranda Priestly, he mused, a woman as dangerous as she was beautiful One who held the fashion world in the palm of her hand, She was renowned for her ruthless streak and a will to destroy her enemies, not unlike his own. She had served his needs in the past by supplying vital information at a critical time in his career. The information of the peculiar sexual peccadilloes of the Editor-in-Chief of a major New York Newspaper had allowed him to quash a story that would have destroyed a Presidential Candidate in the 2000 election before it reached print. It had been a very near thing and without Miranda's aid, he would have failed his client. At the time he had been unable to comprehend exactly why she had relinquished the information so easily, but even then he was well aware that Miranda Priestly never had to explain her actions to anyone. The disconcerting thing, however, was that Miranda had never used his services in return. All these years he been left indebted to the Devil and now he had the distinct feeling that she had come to collect her payment with interest. He would enjoy this, he mused.

*****


	27. Chapter 27

DeSaix stood and adjusted the service ribbons on Andy's chest. She stepped back and looked at her handy work. An aide to the American Ambassador to Italy stood close by. “What they tell me Corporal,” The Ambassador's aide said in heavily accented English, “is that you will be taken by car from here to where they are having the ceremony. There, you will be decorated by the hand of the President, and then there will be a press photograph shoot. After the photograph shoot you will attend the celebration dinner. I imagine that they will want you to say something, so you may want to prepare some words.”

Andy nodded, feeling numb inside. She had stood on the balcony of her room this morning for ten minutes as the crowd below had grown wilder and wilder, cheering and screaming her name. It had made her feel like a complete fraud. They were cheering for a hero and Andy felt herself anything but that. Heroes were brave, fearless, she was scared and empty. Still, she reasoned, if her being here and playing the part the Army wanted her to play could save even one life in Afghanistan then it would be worth it. This wouldn’t last forever, soon she would go home. Home, to New York and her girls, to the family that she had built in a different life, the life that she couldn't quite remember yet but in her heart, she knew it was where she belonged.

*****

Miranda sat patiently in the restaurant, awaiting the arrival of Vernon Avery, her companion for lunch. The truth though was that the patience she exuded was a façade, she had run out of patience days ago and now she knew she would do anything it took to get to her precious love. According to Emily, her Andrea was in Italy on an assignment for the Army. There was some nonsense about a 'good will' tour. Miranda pursed her lips as she thought about the situation, it simply wouldn't do. She and Andrea were on completely different continents. If she'd only known while she was in Paris, she knew that could have been there to greet Andrea on her arrival. However, it seemed that for some inexplicable reason, everyone had lost their minds and decided to keep secrets from her. Emily was one of those people who had hidden the truth, but the events of the last twenty-four hours had forced Miranda to realize something that she had simply taken for granted for the past two and a half years; Emily was one hundred percent loyal to her and the magazine and she had earned her respect. Miranda knew that this was why she hadn’t jumped on the first plane to Italy. She was fully aware that she had acted appallingly in how she had treated Emily. She had apologized for her actions. However, she couldn’t leave yet, Emily needed her and that meant she would do everything in her power to help her. Once Miranda had gone to Italy and returned to New York with Andrea at her side, she could consider what came next for Emily. Some kind of punishment for keeping secrets would be necessary; discipline had to be consistent to be effective. But perhaps a promotion as well...or a significant raise...Perhaps if she offered a significant raise Emily would agree to stay the First Assistant and Miranda could begin grooming her for greater things.

Miranda ran through her to do list in her head, everything that she needed to do before heading back to Europe. She needed to bend Avery to her will, thus giving Emily all the tools she would need to save the career and reputation the Army Officer, DeSaix. She needed to check in with General Kieffer to ensure that her ‘little surprise’ gift had garnered the favor that she required and she needed to speak with her ex-husband and do some family damage control over the press stories and general internet gossip that she had no doubt generated that week.

Vernon Avery rushed into the busy restaurant. He had chosen Ray's: The Steaks, as he knew Miranda was partial to a good steak and it would offer the anonymity that they would require during the busy lunch seating. He was late and felt foolish, he had kept the Iconic Miranda Priestly waiting for him and he knew perfectly well that no one kept her waiting without consequence. His tardiness was a result of the argument he had been caught up in with the Senator’s aide on the telephone. The idiot had some idea of creating an incident that would result in Lieutenant DeSaix dishonorable discharge from the Army and he’d had the nerve to request his assistance. Vernon had chosen to politely refuse, claiming his schedule too full with commitments to other clients, but he knew the Senator would not be pleased with his answer.

He greeted Miranda warmly before he sat down. The conversation remained light and witty throughout, Miranda had been the epitome of a charming host, though he knew Miranda well enough to know that her request to meet would not have been purely social. She would have an ulterior motive and her small talk throughout would have contained snippets of valuable information that he was meant to store away for later use. Most would not suspect that Vernon Avery was a lyrical and literary man. His love of books and reading, especially the classics, were among his many well-guarded secrets. He found himself musing that he was sitting across from Alice's nemesis; the beautiful and terrible Red Queen.  
As the meal came to an end, he felt the shift in the conversation and knew Miranda had come to her purpose.

“Vernon,” she smiled across the table. “I have a friend who is going to contact you very soon. You've encountered her before so you'll know her when you see her. I want you to do exactly as she asks. Treat her as you would me. Once this is over, Avery. I'll consider all of our outstanding accounts balanced.”

Avery nodded and returned the smile. His day had improved considerably. The balance sheet of favors was tipping back to even with Miranda and he savored the idea of having had such a charming companion for lunch. Something new to sink his teeth into was just an added bonus, the sweet bon bon treat at the end of the meal. “Of course Miranda,” he answered. I'll look forward to meeting your friend.”

*****

It was quite unusual for Ian Sutherland to find himself sitting in the public library on a Saturday afternoon. His weekends were normally spent on the track or the Soccer field, instead he was studying. As he flicked through open reference volumes on the desk before him, he reminded himself that it was for a good reason and that if he played the game well he would win just as he did every weekend.

His yellow legal pad already had a page and a half of entries and citations that he had jotted down in the shorthanded scrawl he used to write his personal notes. Octopi, he repeated in his mind, an grinned at the image of the beautiful monster of the deep on the page. His project partner Heather Lear had been none to happy when he'd suggested doing their project on this particular member of the invertebrates, but although disgusted, she'd acquiesced immediately. She was just like the rest of them, he thought. A sheep, looking for that social leg up to one day become the wolf. Ian knew that she was using him, she had already unsubtly suggested, and that they could learn a lot from studying biology together and Ian suspected that Heather’s intention was to make their partnership more than just academic. He glanced across the table at the girl, in his opinion, she was certainly pretty enough, but she lacked that spark, as the French say that ‘je ne sais quoi’. Not like Caroline, he thought. Heather lacked Caroline’s strength, her fire and ironically, considering Caroline was a twin; Heather lacked her ability to be an individual.

He scratched another note about the hunting behavior of the Octopi, whilst another part of his brain considered his next move. It wouldn't do to give Heather the wrong idea. He didn't want to use deception except as a last resort. That was her game, not his. He needed to find out who had defiled Cassidy's locker so that he could help her and then, perhaps, win favor with her sister. He had been thinking about their first date all Semester and he knew without doubt where he would take her. He had heard that she liked classical music and his father had told him that the British Embassy were hosting a chamber quartet for the spring awakening season, at an Embassy gathering. It seemed like a good place to start, he knew she would love the Baroque pieces, the setting and as his father was a British Ambassador, he knew he would have no problems getting in, as long as they were chaperoned. He jotted another note, before starting the annoying small talk with Heather. “So,” he said softly, respecting the quiet rule of all libraries, “what's going on with Cassidy Priestly?”

Heather snorted. “Oh my God, Have you like seen how she's dressing?” She said trying not to laugh. “And hanging out with a loser like Gilchrist?! I mean even if Cassidy is a Lezzy couldn't she do better than the bride of Frankenstein?”

Ian jotted another note on his pad, his eyes carefully down trying not to react to her immature words. He didn't want to give her a clue how angry she had made him. “Somebody painted something on her locker I hear?” he offered to the conversation softly.

Heather chuckled, a derisive sound, “Oh that was Shawn, he’s such a loser. He wants to get into Ashlyn's pants. She suggested it and like the brain dead puppy he is, he just totally did it.”

Ian nodded. “So Ashlyn is out to get Cassidy because she's Gay?” He asked, still looking at his companion.

“Oh please!” Heather sneered. “She doesn't care about Cassidy being Gay as long as she is Gay with the right girl. That Gilchrist freak is so far off the scale of acceptance, it’s just wrong. Ashlyn is out for blood and that includes Caroline.”

Ian looked up from his paper at the mention of Caroline. “What did Caroline do?” He asked trying not to give himself away.

“You have to know how she and her sister are attached at the hip. If Cassidy has gone Goth then Caroline isn't far behind. And the twins are really popular. If they change their image, then it won’t be long before half of Ashlyn's circle change too. Then where would she be? Caroline stood up to Ashlyn; did you think she would let that fly? If she let’s her get away with it, it’s like an open invitation to let anyone challenge her authority and do things there own way. Where would that leave her. Out on her ass, that's where.”

Ian nodded and looked down again to his pad, absently jotting another note. Inside he was seething. He now had the information that he, the Headmaster and the School Disciplinarian wanted, but somehow just turning it over to them didn't seem like it would be enough. He knew how these things worked. The wealthy and privileged were treated differently; he’d been through enough schools and sat at both ends of the scale to see it first hand. The reality was that Ashlyn likely wouldn't be expelled as Mr. Lambert has suggested. Her parents were extremely wealthy and at a school like Dalton, Ian knew that was what mattered the most. Ashlyn's committed assault on Cassidy and her planned assault on Caroline deserved retribution and he would see to it that she felt it. 

Heather continued her happy and oblivious small talk as Ian let his mind turn toward his new purpose.

*****

Carol Rodriguez liked to imagine of herself as a free spirited individual. She liked to spend hours considering the complexities of her nature, as she stood leaning on the counter of the mind numbingly boring fast food job. Her current job was just another stopgap in her search for the easy life. On which allowed her to continue to model her behavior as she had done her whole life. Which, was to do as little as possible, with maximum benefits. That had been a problem in the army, she’d fool-heartedly joined up thinking that she wouldn’t have to work for it, that she would be handed the stability she needed, it would be somewhere she could belong and a steady paycheck. However, she soon found that it was not going to be as easy as that and she found that following rules and being part of a team was not for her. Therefore, Ex-Private Carol Rodriguez got herself thrown out of the U.S. Army for bad conduct. It had been easy enough to get out, all she had to do was follow her natural instincts. She had instigated fights in the barracks, missed parade countless times and been caught by the MP’s on numerous occasions for being absent without leave. All of the offenses had earned her some serious fines and even some weekends in the stockades but the final straw had been the petty theft charge. They had never been able to prove it but with her tarnished record, they didn’t need the proof, the Chain of Command had no option but to terminate her service. So, one year and six months into her enlistment she achieved her goal and was dishonorably discharged from the U.S Army for bad conduct.

As she continued to lean on the counter and dream about her way out of the current greasy hole she had found herself in, she was interrupted by her Manager. He summoned her back into the miserable rat den of an office, which weirdly, he was proud of. It was a dank and cramped room with a desk, a rusty filing cabinet and two grimy chairs. She expected to be spoken to, about daydreaming at the registers again. But she was surprised and suspicious to find a young man in a suit and tie sitting on one of the grimy chairs waiting there. The young man rose to his feet and offered her his hand. “Ms. Rodriguez?” He asked.

The suit was too expensive for him to be a cop, but he definitely had the look of an official written all over him.. When bureaucrats came looking for you it usually spelled trouble, she thought. She cautiously nodded her head. “Who wants to know?” She asked.

“My name is Phillip Garner.” he replied. “I work for a United States Senator, in Washington.” He looked over to the restaurant Manager who was hovering. “Would you excuse us please? Government business, you understand...”

When the Manager had left, closing the door behind him, the young man smiled. “Ms. Rodriguez, we have a proposition for you. How would you like to go to Italy, all expenses paid?”

The Conversation with the Senator's Aide hadn't been all sweet and nice. He had known many things about her, things that she had tried to tried to keep secret. He had all the details of her dishonorable discharge, her criminal record from several States and all her little misdemeanors including the outstanding bench warrant from Mississippi for shoplifting. He'd made it clear that it was the carrot, or the stick. If she did what they wanted, she got an all expenses paid trip to Italy, and five grand cash on her return. However, if she refused, they had all the information they needed to make her life very difficult.

What they wanted was simple enough really. They needed her to 'accidentally' bump into her old fling, Meriwether DeSaix, who was on a military mission in Rome. Once reacquainted, she was tasked with ruining the Creole woman’s life and career. 

Rodriguez had met DeSaix just over three years ago in a sleazy bar just outside Fort Jackson in South Carolina. Rodriguez had been working for an unpleasant, over-weight bald man with grabby hands in an establishment that was ripping off the Hooter's concept. DeSaix had come into the civilian bar with a group of male Soldiers for a few pitchers of beer and Rodriguez had noticed her beautiful face and smile from the moment she had entered. It wasn’t long into her shift before Mr. 'Grabby hands' began his usual inappropriate touching and before she could bat his hands away, DeSaix had appeared to snatch his hands away and remind the man of his manners. The Soldiers had damn near drunk the place dry that night and DeSaix hadn’t taken her eyes off her the entire time. After she finished her shift, Rodriguez had found DeSaix waiting for her in the parking lot and so began their six-month torrid affair. 

DeSaix became a regular at the bar and whenever she had leave, they spent time together off base. It was a good arrangement as far as Rodriguez was concerned. DeSaix helped her out with money every payday and she treated her well... Although they had little in common, they were good in the sack together and had a few laughs. There was a lot that she kept from DeSaix. She was happy to take her money, but whenever DeSaix was on duty, Rodriguez believed that she was free to do what she wanted and sleep with whom she wanted, as long as DeSaix didn’t ever find out. Then after a few months, DeSaix went and ruined everything, by starting to get serious. She began pushing Rodriguez to try and 'better' herself. She even offered to pay for her to go back to school or study for a trade. She wanted a future, a home and someone to settle down with when she left the Army. But, it was all too much for Rodriguez, she didn’t want the commitment and she liked herself just as she was. So, without DeSaix's knowledge or encouragement, Rodriguez decided that if they were going to be together it would be on her terms and enlisted in the Army, naively thinking that once she was in, DeSaix would simply be able to pull all the necessary strings and she could have an easy ride for the term of her enlistment. When she told DeSaix the news, she couldn’t understand why her lover was so angry and upset. DeSaix explained that while she was proud that she was doing something as important as becoming a Soldier, fraternization, she'd explained, was against the rules and so DeSaix put an end to the relationship. Soon after that, the Officer was deployed to Iraq and Rodriguez found herself in what she considered to be hell. 

Now even if she was being blackmailed, she had a chance to get her retribution and come out of it without a scratch and wad of cash in her pocket. She decided to renegotiate with Mr. Garner on the way to the Airport. For another five grand she'd give them Meriwether DeSaix on a silver platter.

*****

The early evening in the streets of Rome had been surreal for Andy and her entourage. The car that was supposed to take them to the ceremony hadn't been able to go a half a mile from the hotel before it was overwhelmed by the crowds in the street and unable to move forward. 

Being of a military mentality and on a schedule, DeSaix decided that they would walk to the site of ceremony, which was some two miles in the distance. But, she had not counted on the enthusiasm of the crowd for their chosen hero. Their walk had turned into a parade and walking either side of the hero meant that she and Scruggs were treated as if they were the moon to her sun. DeSaix wondered if this was what it was like for the American Soldiers, who had liberated areas of Italy during the Second World War. There were flowers pressed into her hands and the women leaned in enthusiastically to steal kisses from a blushing Scruggs. Andy was at the center of a maelstrom, each member of the crowd desperately wanted a piece of her. To touch her, to garner a smile and to wish her well in her recovery. DeSaix and Scruggs tried to remain in escort formation but even with Scruggs enormous bulk the crowd was not cooperating. It wasn’t long before Andy was lifted up and swept away on the shoulders of half a dozen admirers in the midst of a surging sea of cheering people as DeSaix and Scruggs struggled to keep up.

The Italian officials had chosen the courtyard of the Palazzo del Quirinale, as the site where Corporal Andrea Sachs would receive the Golden Decorazione per Eroico Servizio, the medal that the Italian Parliament had created to hang around the neck of the People's hero. The Prime Minister and the President of the Republic stood on the dais and watched as the young woman, who had caught the imagination of the populace, was carried in on the shoulders of their cheering compatriots. It was a good day for those in power. Today the people were happy, basking in the light of their Government enacting their wishes. Opposing sides of the parliament stood side by side on the platform in unity. This national fervor had caused ripples through the country. Even going so far as to unite the opposing political parties in constructive and amicable chat.

Arabella Messalina Giovanni smiled from her privileged place on the dais as she caught her first glimpse of the woman that, if she had her way, would soon be hers. She knew that the hero had been badly wounded. She had prepared herself for the scarred countenance but instead saw a beautiful young woman carried in on the shoulders of the cheering crowd. Bella subtlety licked her lips. Perhaps this wasn't going to be as much of a self-sacrifice as she had thought.

***** 

The President and the First Lady walked arm in arm through the White House Rose Gardens. “So, the idea that the Pentagon had was a good one.” The President offered in light conversation with his wife. “The Italians are really taken with her and the numbers show that the support for American interests in the Middle East, have rocketed all over Europe due to the European press coverage.” His tone and presentation spoke a million words. Michelle had been married to him long enough to know that he wanted something from her. She continued to walk in silence, enjoying a few precious moments together among the roses. She knew he'd eventually come to the point.

“So,” the President said, “you've had some contact with this Miranda Priestly. You know something about her...”

Michelle smiled. So that was it, she thought. The local Press hadn't missed that Miranda was in D.C. and, the International Press was playing merry hob with it’s speculation on why the reigning Queen of fashion publishing had walked out on Paris Fashion week. Michelle had followed the story with interest. Once Miranda had left, others had followed suit. Numerous other fashion magazines and many of the fashion houses evidently took their queues from her and had also folded their tents and gone home early. According to the European Press the final shows of Paris fashion week had resembled a ghost town. Michelle turned and smiled a smile at her husband. 

Her smile told him that she knew exactly what he was up to, but he continued. “She has a connection to Corporal Sachs doesn't she? He confirmed and Michelle nodded. “Some of my people are concerned that she may...interfere in some way with the mission in Italy...”

Michelle continued to smile in amusement. “It's possible,” she answered softly. “I'm almost surprised that she hasn't flown out for Italy already.”

Her Husband stopped and looked around, to check that the Secret Service chaperons were out of earshot. “Michelle,” he said softly, “this is important, I need to know. Is the mission in jeopardy?”

Michelle looked down and smiled. “I'll invite Miranda in for coffee. She's a reasonable woman. I'll speak with her.”

The President looked down and sighed. “Can you tell me what's going on?” He asked.

Michelle reached up and touched his face and smiled at the man she loved. “No,” she answered, “I can't. You're the Commander-in-Chief. If I were to tell you what's going on you'd be duty bound to act on what you know. Just let me deal with Miranda. I'll take care of it.”

The President sighed again and nodded. “”I'm supposedly the most powerful man in the world and everybody, including my wife, wants to keep secrets from me,” he replied plaintively.

*****

Serena was buried under a mountain of flowers. The arrangements and other lavish gifts had begun to arrive at Miranda's office early on the Saturday morning and had continued throughout the day. Both the inner and the outer offices had begun to look like Macy's Flower Show. Serena had immediately started a list of who had sent what. It seemed that every major and minor fashion house were tendering their apologies to the fashion maven for their failure to keep her interest during the shows in Paris.

Hidden amongst the many blossoms, she let her mind wander. An idea began to form in the back of her mind. Richard, her White Knight had said that when the case was settled, he would return home to Cincinnati. She had never been to Cincinnati but she was certain that it was not as cosmopolitan as the Big Apple. Her mind turned to what she wanted and how to accomplish it. She wanted Richard to stay in New York, to stay with her. She dearly wished that Emily was here to advise her. Emily had a devious twist of mind and could always come up with innovative ways to solve a problem and if necessary come at it sideways.

She finished the latest entry on to her list of self-deprecating fashion houses and turned to a rack of clothing to be cataloged for the closet. Agent Provocateur had outdone themselves with their submissions, for consideration and inclusion in Runway’s spring edition. As she ran her fingers over the delicate pieces of silk and lace, she had a sudden vision of her candle-lit apartment strewn with the flowers that filled the main office. In the vision, she was standing amongst the riot of color, wearing the beautiful lingerie, opening her arms to the man that she wanted in her life. She smiled and considered that, perhaps, she had learned more from Emily than she'd thought.

*****

Cassidy had chosen Tomoe Sushi, a five star sushi restaurant in the West Village as the place to introduce her Father to her girlfriend. This had surprised Wade because he knew that his daughter didn't really like fish, never mind raw fish. Roxanna Gilchrist, however, apparently did like it and that was what was important to Cassidy. As Wade participated in introductory small talk, Caroline sat quietly at her place, with a plate of fresh Tempura before her and silently smiled through most of the conversation. It felt wonderful to Caroline to simply sit and bask in the glow that was emanating from her twin. Happiness came off Cassidy in waves and Caroline felt like a sponge, just soaking it up. She wondered if she'd ever felt her sister so happy. She had already decided that what her sister was feeling was worth it, even if it lasted for a day, a month or for years. Sometime in the last twenty-four hours, without conscious consideration, she had decided that what Cassidy had was worth fighting for. That meant that Caroline would stand up to anything, up to and including her mother to protect what she had. If Ashlyn Miller and her posse at school wanted a fight, Caroline mused, they were going to get one.

Roxanna was on her best behavior. She had never been invited to meet her girlfriend's parent before, in fact she had never even been acknowledged as a girlfriend before, and so this made her extra nervous.

Wade could see how jittery the young girl was. But, it was obvious that she had captured his Daughter's heart, and he decided to give her break and kept the conversation light. As the evening progressed, he was more and more favorably impressed with the young girl. In addition, he now had the ammunition he needed for what he feared would be a Battle Royale with his ex-wife.

*****

As she returned to her hotel and before she entered the lobby, two men in dark suits and dark glasses approached Miranda Priestly They had Secret Service written all over them. The two men introduced themselves briefly and then escorted Miranda by the arms into a waiting black limousine.

Inside the vehicle, Miranda found herself in the presence of the First Lady. The Secret Service agent closed the door and waited on the curb as instructed and Michelle raised the privacy screen before turning to Miranda. “Sorry for the cloak and dagger, Miranda,” she said softly, smiling at the First Lady of Fashion. “But if I'd asked you to coffee tomorrow morning you would have told me you had a flight to catch.”

Miranda, eyes narrowed. “No, tomorrow morning I will already be somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean.” She replied.

Michelle nodded. “I'm sorry Miranda. I know how you feel about Ms. Sachs, but I need to ask you a favor. I have been asked to politely remind you, how important her visit to Europe is, to this country and for the war effort. Any interference with what's going on over there would not be tolerated. So I am asking you as a friend to stay put so that Ms. Sachs can finish the mission she's been sent on.” Michelle watched Miranda’s eyes turn to ice and pursed lips in clear disgust.

“What would you do Michelle? Would you stay?” She said quietly, in a voice so low that one had to shut up and listen for. “If it was the person you loved and you knew they were alone?”

Michelle nodded. “I understand what you are saying. But if they were a soldier and under orders...yes, I would. Even though I know, it would be the hardest thing I'd ever done. I believe that, for once, the Pentagon knows what it's doing. What Ms. Sachs...”

“Andrea,” Miranda snapped, “her name is Andrea.”

Michelle nodded gently and smiled a small sad smile. “Andrea is on a hearts and minds mission, Miranda. One that, for once, we can win.” Michelle reached beside her and touched a button on a remote control. A television screen in the back of the limo lit up with Rai: the Italian news channel and there was Andrea, being lauded by the Italian People at the airport. Michelle watched Miranda's eyes go soft and saw the powerful woman almost strain towards the image. The commentary was in Italian but that did not matter, as she knew Miranda was multi-lingual as was she. “She has two good soldiers with her who have been assigned to be her escorts,” Michelle explained, before switching the channel, to France24. The French Commentator spoke over a photograph of Andrea, wrapped in a bathrobe on a balcony. “The American Embassy in Rome has a team looking after her. Any and everything she might need will be provided,”. She switched the channel again to N24 and Miranda saw Andrea on a street among a crowd this time with German commentary over the video.

Miranda's eyes widened and then again narrowed. “You're using the European Press to manipulate American coverage,” she almost whispered. “You know that the imbecilic American press will follow suit. You intend to use Andrea to mold the American public’s opinion.”

Michelle nodded. “In order to convince Congress, that the war is valid and to continue to fund support for our troops in the field.”

“And the American government will provide everything she needs. Everything, except the care of someone that loves her.” Miranda grated.

“I've been told that she doesn't remember anything from the last three years, Miranda,” Michelle sighed. “I can't imagine how you must feel about that, and I can easily imagine that you want to help her, in some way. But if you go to Italy there's a chance that you could upset or confuse her, and we need her there, Miranda. We need her on point and thinking about the mission. We'd like to avoid anything that might jeopardize it's success.”

Miranda looked at the First Lady. Her voice was cold and empty when she spoke. “And how, pray tell, do you intend on stopping me from going to her? Am I not a citizen of a free country? Do I need to start quoting the bill of rights?”

Michelle nodded. “Yes, of course you are, Miranda. I have no power to stop you. As a friend, I can only ask that you to help me with what is considered a vitally important mission to your Government.”

Miranda pursed her lips and sat back. “Damn you,” she whispered behind clenched teeth.

In the following moments, Michelle bore witness to the transformation from Miranda her friend to the Devil in Heels. “Here are my terms,” Miranda stated coldly. “As soon as Andrea is finished with this mission, she is to be granted terminal leave from the National Guard. Her discharge will be final with no threat of recall, and this will happen immediately upon her return to U.S soil. Finally unless she wishes it otherwise, I want her to be brought back to New York where I will meet her on her return, is that understood?”

Michelle nodded and smiled. “As long as she doesn't object, I think I can arrange that...”

*****


	28. Chapter 28

Emily forced another laugh at the unfunny joke that the Senator had offered over after-dinner digestifs. The restaurant was candle lit, romantic and Emily found herself wishing she was here with DeSaix. The mere thought of the woman—who had now become her both her cause and purpose—sent a delicious shiver down her spine. 

The Senator took her slight tremble as a good sign as placed his hand on her thigh. He spent the evening running through the tall tales of his many political conquests and she had fawned over every word. He knew that tonight was the night, he would have his way with the delicious little British crumpet.

***** 

Emily swallowed back the vile taste in her mouth as the Senator placed the unwelcome hand on her thigh. Her patience, so far had been fueled by her need to find out about what was going on with DeSaix, but try as she might, she just couldn't figure out a way to bring the subject up. She knew she needed to act fast, the longer she kept him at bay the more likely it be that he lost interest and moved on to an easier prey. DeSaix was in trouble and the information this man held was the key to saving her. The problem was that Emily was struggling with just how far she was willing to go to save the infuriating woman. She was now reliant on the contact Miranda had offered—in way of an apology. If he didn't pan out, Emily knew she would need to resort to more extreme measures to achieve her goal. She lifted the cocktail stick from her Dirty Martini and ran her tongue seductively around the olive as the Senator practically drooled. This was going to be a long night, Emily thought as she smiled behind clenched teeth.

***** 

The Italian Prime Minister hung the heavy golden medal around the young woman's neck as the noise of the cheering crowd threatened to shake the very foundations of the buildings around the Palazzo. He had been in public service his entire career and had never seen anyone—not even a movie star or rock star—generate this kind of enthusiasm. Certainly not in the broad cross-section of the populace as he saw before him. Someone from every generation and religious belief had turned out to see this American hero, waving flags and cheering for this brave woman. The soldier stood tall and proud on the podium, with such poise and grace, she was the epitome of the American Army’s poster child. 

Andy stood to attention, the crowd in front of her had become a blur and she had no choice but to allow the sheer noise of the crowd to wash over her. A woman representing the Medical arm of the Italian Military, had been given the honor of translating the words of the president into English for her, but she had been long since drowned out by the cheers of the crowd. As a result, Andy had no idea as to what had been said. The whole situation left Andy in a dreamlike state, she looked around to find her two anchors DeSaix and Scruggs. Who stood at attention on the platform, their heads were straight ahead, doing their best to represent the U.S. in the most positive light, she felt in the knowledge that they were there, both of them were watching her like highly trained hawks, out the corner of an eye. It was becoming evident to Andy that the presentation was winding down, she felt drained and hoped that the officials in the Italian government and press wouldn't want to interview her in front of the large crowd, because she had really no idea of what she could say.

Bella circled her way through the prelude of small talk and appetizers at the post-award dinner like the seasoned pro that she was. However, patience was wearing thin, she was bored with waiting. She had no intention of standing in the receiving line to meet the American hero. Bella, knew how to make an entrance and an impression, and being introduced to the woman, whom she intended to ensnare, in a prim and proper line would simply not do. The high and mighty of her country's Government were moving at a snail's pace through the interminable line, each wanting to be able to say that they had taken the hero's hand and shared a few words with her. 

Bella took the opportunity to use the time to gather some intelligence about those she might encounter while in her quest to favorably impress the hero. She had moved purposely past where the hero's two escorts stood, pausing for a long moment to capture a glass of Champagne from a Waiter's tray. She met each of the Escort's eyes, smiling her seductive model's mask. Frustratingly, instead of melting into a pool desire, the large military man, simply smiled innocently back at her. The tall, drink of chocolate was another matter all together. Bella knew her own kind when she saw them. Without a doubt, she knew that the officer was a lover of women, and this meant that she was be an obstacle in her objective. The woman was beautiful and already in a position of power over the American hero. This wouldn't do at all, she needed to be removed.

By the time she reached the end of the receiving line, Andy felt as if she had touched the hand of every person in the city of Rome, like a wedding reception on speed. She was tired and every muscle in her body ached from the hours on parade. She was still relying on her right leg when she stood, this was something the rehabilitation therapist had discussed with her,and although she was conscious of her stance, she still found it unnatural to rely on her new limb. 

When it was time for the dinner the Prime Minister's wife, appeared at Andy’s side and offered to guide her to her seat. Andy smiled and nodded as the petite Italian woman made small talk, whilst leading her up the stairs to the raised dais. Andy glanced at the name cards as she walked past the top table, feeling a element of panic rise in her stomach as there appeared to be no sign of her escorts' names down the line. As she approached the central seat of the table, the position of honor, she felt her companion stiffen. Andy watched in mixture of amusement and wariness as a stunningly beautiful woman rose from one of the chairs. She grabbed the Prime Minister’s wife boldly by her shoulders and leaned in for a dramatic air kiss. Turning a deep shade of red, the Prime Minister’s wife appeared lost for words. 

“So, Darling,” the beautiful woman announced in smoky and heavily accented English. “Aren't you going to introduce me to this magnificent woman?”

*****

A disheveled Emily, arrived in the hotel to find Miranda sitting stiffly in the lobby. Every line of her body screamed anger. Emily, sighed in defeat, she had just spent the last half hour fending off the Senator's amorous advances, she didn’t think she had the strength to face the cold hard scrutiny of the Devil in Heels as well. She moved to where her Boss sat and felt the woman's eyes rake over her appearance.

“Emily,” Miranda clipped softly, “I have been prevented from flying out to join Andrea. That leaves me with time on my hands and a strong desire to punish someone. Your little project seems the perfect opportunity for me to apologize to you properly and to fulfill my desire to make someone pay. I will, in exchange, however, have one small request of you...” 

Emily’s eyebrow rose up into an arch of curiosity. Miranda’s speech had been awkward but the tired British girl knew that she had meant every word. As determined as she was, Emily knew that she was just a small fish in a big ocean. Miranda was a seasoned shark, who knew how to hunt and kill her prey with little effort. This would be a cake walk, and Emily would do anything for her in return.

***** 

Sunday morning Amelie Pelletier found herself enjoying a late breakfast and light conversation with Bella’s assistant, Lucrezia, on the magnificent terrace of the private villa. She sighed and reluctantly admitted that she was being seduced by the Model's lavish lifestyle. Bella’s world was filled with finery she could never afford. Servants took care of the Italian Beauty’s every need, and Amelie knew that she could quite easily grow accustomed to the decadence. 

The two had been sitting enjoying the peaceful company for just under an hour before, Bella strolled down the stone steps to the table, wrapped in an almost diaphanous robe. Lucrezia noted the smile on her employer's face and made the assumption that the night had gone well from Bella's perspective. However, the lack of the fawning woman on her arm meant that the night had not gone exactly as Bella had planned and this left Lucrezia confused. Sex was always Bella’s end game and so she would have expected her employer's mood to be waspish at the very least. Instead she found her more affable than usual. She sighed internally and wondered what the highly strung woman was up to now.

The previous night had gone quite well, as far as Bella was concerned. She had been introduced to the young American hero and quite unexpectedly she had discovered a charming, if seemingly somewhat overwhelmed young woman. Bella had assumed that the apparent shellshock was due to the public scrutiny the young woman was under. She knew, exactly what that was like, it wasn't easy to be the center of everyone's attention if you weren't use to it, and so Bella had found her quite endearing. The venue of the banquet had been a hindrance to Bella's plot, it was extremely public and even holding a conversation with the guest of honor had been a challenge, needless to say executing the plan was quite off the cards. On the flip side, she had managed to confirm—much to her joy—that Andrea, “Call me, Andy.” Sachs did, in fact, bat for the same team. The clues had been there in a hundred little ways from the moment Bella had first clapped eyes on her intended. During the post dinner cocktails, ‘her’ Andy had been sweet company, they had talked about her thoughts of Italy and how far she was with her recuperation. Bella had also learned that the young woman was suffering from amnesia. The devious little wheels in Bella’s mind spun with rigor as she listened to the extent of the loss and how she could use this to her advantage. 

“Amelie,” Bella said, addressing her private detective as she sat down at the table. “The purpose I hired you for is likely still a few days off. In the meantime I would like you to use the time to find out all you can about an American woman named Andrea Sachs. I will expect some results by dinnertime this evening. Is that understood?” 

Lucrezia watched her employer with interest and growing unease. She knew that Bella had set her mind and heart on seducing and bedding another 'unobtainable' woman. While Lucrezia had known and assisted in this matter, she now worried that Bella was up to more than her usual shenanigans. It was beginning to sound as if this was meant to be more than one of Bella's usual filings. “Bella,” Lucrezia spoke, drawing the woman’s attention. “Cosa stai facendo? She asked in her native tongue, she needed to know what was going on, but she didn’t want Amelie to know that she was out of the loop. 

Like a predatory cat Bella smiled at her Assistant. “Amelie, would you please excuse us?” She was asked turning a sweet smile on the woman. 

“Oui, Bella.” Amelie nodded and left the table with her coffee. 

Bella watched the woman leave and then rounded on her long standing assistant. “She has amnesia.” She grinned devilishly. “It is my intention to learn all I can about 'my' Andy's past and then simply 'insert’ myself into it. In a few days’ time she will believe that we were lovers and that we had a glorious life together, I will convince her to ‘come back’ to me and be mine forever.” 

“Bella,” Lucrezia blanched. “This is not a good idea....”

Bella's smile faltered and her eyes went cold.

Lucrezia felt enraged, Bella had done some despicable things, but this? “Why did you hire her?” She demanded, pointing to the open door from which Amelie had exited. “Why did you have Don Moretti give you a gun?”

Bella was growing impatient with the questioning and more-over the judgmental looks from Lucrezia. “Amelie is here for 'my' Andy's protection...” She clipped. “And if it should come to it…to convince Andy of her need to stay.” 

Lucrezia closed her eyes and shook her head in disappointment. “Mia Bella, please...” She whispered.

Bella's face turned from cold to thunderous. “You will assist me, or you will be seeking employment elsewhere,” she warned behind clenched teeth.

Inside Lucrezia a battle raged. She had served Bella faithfully and tumultuously for several years, she loved her in her way. She knew Bella’s threats were empty, she couldn’t survive without Lucrezia. But equally Bella knew that when it came down to it, she would do whatever Bella asked of her, even if she knew it was wrong. The last thing Lucrezia wanted was the American woman in their lives as a permanent fixture. Nobody knew Bella better than she did and that was how it was going to stay. She would need time to figure out how to make it happen. In the meantime she would need to bow and admit defeat. “Of course Bella,” she answered. “I will assist Amelie in her inquiries if you have nothing else for me to do.”

*****

Andrea awoke in a cold sweat. The nightmare had come again. She opened her eyes to DeSaix, standing over her bed gently shaking her, a concerned look in her eyes. 

“I came in to wake you and heard you calling out” She moved her hand down Andy’s arm in a comforting motion.“Nightmare?” DeSaix asked softly.

Andy nodded and saw the door to her suite open. “Yeah,” she breathed. “Same one as always.”

DeSaix nodded. “Mine is a car bombing.” She offered, trying to show the younger woman that she understood what she was going through. She sat on the edge of the bed as she continued, speaking softly. “I was out to pick up an AWOL in Tikrit. I was crossing a market to where I'd heard my guy was. There was this little boy, he can’t have been any older than five, and he was just staring at me. He smiled and I smiled back, then out of no-where there was an almighty boom. Some god-damned bastard chose that very moment to end the lives of about twenty innocent civilians. I guess I was lucky enough to be on the periphery, but I still got knocked on my ass.” She took a deep breath. “With pieces of that little boy, all over me. I used to relive it every time I closed my eyes, the smell and taste of death. Took me months after I got home from that tour to shake it. I’m not too proud to admit that I needed help. The Doc said that the dreams are a way that the brain tries to process what happened.”

Andy nodded, understanding the logic of the idea. “Thanks, for telling me that.” She smiled. “I guess it would be easier, if I could remember what happened. I mean I've seen the video, but it was like watching someone else. It was my face and my voice, but I can't remember doing any of those things. Have you ever wondered, if it came down to it, would I be brave enough to jump in front of a bullet or run into a burning building? You see, they are saying I was that brave but I still can’t ever imagine myself doing it.”

DeSaix nodded. “Maybe when we get back you can go talk to somebody.” She looked at the clock and stood up. “Right now, it's time to roll out Soldier. The Army has stuff for you to do today.”

Andy sat up in the bed. “What's on the agenda for today?” She asked.

“They've got you running all over creation. It's the damnedest thing I've ever seen. You’re scheduled for two breakfasts, two lunches and two dinners all back to back. Then there's a party tonight. I hope you’re hungry?,” DeSaix answered.

As insane and rushed as it was, somehow the schedule seemed familiar, even comforting to Andy. She smiled. “Just sit me next Scruggs, it will save me having to hide it my purse.” 

DeSaix laughed out loud as she left the room.

*****

The first Breakfast Andy and her entourage attended was in a small town just outside of Rome. In the morning's rush Andy hadn't even caught the name of the place. It was explained to her that the reason that this particular town had been chosen for her presence was because the father of one of the senior doctors on the medical team that she had saved was the town mayor. The man had apparently actively lobbied for the privilege of being among the first towns to honor her and her bravery. Similar to the earlier events she had attended, it appeared to Andy that every single person in the town had come out to greet her. The Mayor's wife, excitedly told Andy about how blessed they were as there was not one, but two famous people visiting them. The famous model Arabella Messalina Giovanni had come to pay her respect to the hero. Andy was not sure if she was more surprised about Arabella’s attendance or the fact that they regarded Andy as a celebrity. 

She was taken to the dais where the place of honor awaited her. There, on the dais, seated next to where she would sit was the beautiful Bella from last night's banquet. There was something familiar about the way the woman sat, and the fashionable way she was dressed. It was something tickling at the back of Andy's mind. The woman smiled a welcoming smile at her and she smiled back politely.

DeSaix watched Corporal Sachs take her place at the head table and noted the presence of the same beautiful woman from previous night. As DeSaix was responsible for Corporal Sachs' security while in Italy, she was working in a constant state of heightened awareness. The woman's presence at the breakfast was curious to say the least. However as the day progressed, and Andy and her detail went from event-to-event, DeSaix's curiosity began to move to unease as the beautiful woman’s presence continue at each one.

***** 

Breakfast found Vernon Avery answering a late night summons from Miranda Priestly. He had been instructed to meet her in the restaurant of her hotel. Upon arrival, he was surprised to find the elegant, yet deadly woman in the company of the red head he had seen on Senator Meriwether's arm during their last two meetings. 

Miranda smiled a cold crocodilian smile as he approached and he felt an uncharacteristic shudder run through him. Someone, he thought, was in serious trouble. He stood a polite distance from the table waiting on Miranda's invitation to sit down.

Miranda finished whatever she was saying discreetly to the red head and she looked up. “Ahhhh, Vernon,” she said, in an amused tone, “I believe you've already met my associate Emily.”

Vernon nodded, suddenly disquieted. “An intern on trade relations at the British Embassy I believe.”

Miranda chuckled. “As you are no doubt aware, Vernon, plots and counter-plots in Washington can be knotty problems. Small untruths are necessary sometimes, and useful, until one knows which way the wind is blowing. Emily is not engaged by the British Embassy. She is, in fact, my protégé and the heir apparent to take over my position at Runway Magazine when I retire.”

Vernon nodded his understanding. Miss Emily Charlton, who was now regularly in Senator Meriweather's company, was an agent of Miranda Priestly and apparently Miranda had a bone to pick with the Senator. Vernon almost felt bad for the man, whose downfall was clearly imminent.

The conversation between Miranda and Vernon Avery ceased to make any sense to Emily immediately after Miranda introduced her as both protégé and heir to Miranda's position. Although a master of multi-tasking, she was suddenly unable to focus. Certainly she had misheard, her mind screamed. There was no way that Miranda had accorded her such lofty accolades, not even in jest. She was called from her confusion when Miranda’s sparking, mischievous sapphire eyes, smiled warmly at her. “Are you with us Emily?” Miranda asked, her tone playful.

Emily marshaled herself and nodded. “You had said you wanted me to tell Mr. Avery of my meeting with Lieutenant DeSaix, from the beginning,” she answered.

“Vernon,” Miranda corrected her gently. “You are the one in control of this situation. Don't demean yourself by offering unearned honorifics. I’ve taught you better than that.” 

Again Emily was stunned. This was the first time that Miranda had offered such advice.” She nodded and filed the lesson away for future consideration. “Yes, Miranda.” She said. “It began when Miranda's Second Assistant Andrea Sachs came back to Runway from a tour in Afghanistan...”

*****

Ian Sutherland exited the early morning commuter train in a part of Connecticut that he was unfamiliar with. 

During the previous day’s investigations he had determined that the Priestly twins were staying with their Father. He had obtained Wade Bradley's address from a Dalton Alumni list and told his mother that he would at the public library all day studying. Finding the train platform virtually deserted he discovered that it was necessary to call a cab to come pick him up as there apparently wasn't sufficient traffic on a Sunday Morning to warrant a cabbie waiting at the station. Waiting for his ride to arrive gave him a few minutes to consider his plan. 

It was simply really: he would present himself at Caroline and Cassidy's door and reveal all he had learned about Ashlyn's plot against them. Then he would suggest his counter-plot. It would involve the twins and himself lobbying to take control of the popular clique and then destroying it from the inside. In addition, he would make Caroline fall in love with him. A short cab ride later, he took a deep breath and raised his hand to knock on the door. Yes, really simple, he grimaced. 

Wade opened his front door to a handsome young man with an English accent, who very politely asked if Caroline and Cassidy were at home and able to receive guests. He escorted the young man, who had introduced himself as Ian Sutherland, a schoolmate of his girls to the Family Room and then went upstairs to let the girls know he'd arrived. 

Cassidy received the information with equanimity. Caroline was disbelieving at first and then immediately panicked, proclaiming that her hair was a mess, she needed time to put her make up on and that she had nothing to wear. Cassidy rolled her eyes and laughingly promised to keep Ian busy for a time, while Caroline made herself ready. 

On entering the Family Room Cassidy cautiously greeted the ninth-grader with “Good morning Ian.”

He turned and looked at her and she could see something akin to disappointment flash in his eyes. “Good Morning Cassidy,” he replied politely. “I imagine my turning up here must be something of a surprise.”

Cassidy nodded, wondering why he was here. However, being her mother's daughter, playing the good hostess came first. “Can I get you something? Water? Coffee? A soda?” She asked.

Ian looked down into her eyes and smiled warmly. “A cup of coffee would be lovely,” he said softy.

Cassidy went to the Kitchen and poured three cups of coffee and placed them on a tray with a sugar bowl and a pitcher of Half and Half and a plate of Biscotti. Her father looked up from his own cup of coffee and the Sunday Newspaper. “He seems like a nice, polite young man,” he offered.

Cassidy glanced at him. “Yes, he seems so.” She said coldly. Wade looked at his Daughter and once again he was taken a back at how much she emulated her Mother. Thankfully, unlike her Mother, Cassidy was willing to explain her hostility and suspicion. “He's a guy that could be running the social highs of Dalton and yet, he totally chooses to be a loner. I don't know why he's here dad. It's not like we've ever hung out with him at school. I've spoken maybe five words to him in his entire time there.”

Her father nodded. With the recently events at the school and the hateful attack on Cassidy's locker he could understand her concern. “I'm right here if you need anything at all, baby,” he offered.

Cassidy nodded and taking the tray she returned to the Family Room. Offering Ian a cup of coffee she took her sister's and started preparing it like Caroline like it—One Sweet and Low and lots of Half and Half. “So,” she said carefully, “what brings you out to our house on a Sunday morning?”

Ian took the jar of Sweet and Low and focused on preparing his drink. . “I heard about what was done to you. I wanted to tell you and your sister how badly I feel about it. Tell both of you how angry it made me...”

Caroline stood silent and unseen in the doorway, listening to what Ian was saying. She observed his awkward mannerisms, he was just adorable, she smiled.

***** 

Janet Sachs stepped off an Acela Express Amtrak train in Pennsylvania Station in New York City. She had business to conduct with her soon to be ex-husband and decided that enough was enough. She wouldn't wait for him to return to Cincinnati. She would inform him that she was returning to their home town and moving back into their suburban tract house in preparation for their daughter's return from Italy, when Andy would move back in with her. He would be expected to move his things out and make other living arrangements on his return home. There would be no discussion. 

She pulled her cell phone from her purse and dialed Richard's number.

*****


	29. Chapter 29

Richard arrived at an upscale apartment building on Park Avenue, where he had been invited to attend brunch with Serena. “A home cooked meal” she had said, “seeing as he'd been from home for days and not had the opportunity,” Also, adding the convincing argument. “No, one likes to eat out all the time.” 

At first glance, he thought he must have misread the address Serena had given him but checking the card she'd written it on he confirmed that he was where Serena had asked him to be. He approached the uniformed doorman and asked about Serena and the apartment number she had provided. He was surprised when the door keeper smiled at him. “You are expected, Mr. Sachs. Please go right up,” the man said.

The ride up in the elevator again gave him time to regret that his time in New York would soon be coming to an end. Tomorrow would likely see the end of the lawsuit. The Board Member from Elias Clark, he had met with Friday afternoon had indicated that the terms of the bargain they had struck were quite agreeable and believed that most of the Board would also agree. The Auditing firm that had employed the ‘little toad’ who had sexually harassed Serena were practically howling to settle, even if it was going to cost them all of their Executive's first born children, he mused. During the meeting with them on terms for settlement, one of the Executives of the Auditing Company had assured Richard that they were not going to fire the man who had harassed her. They were going to keep him around so they could make his life an ever-living hell. The final tally was an all-around hands down win for Serena. The number of zeros on the check that she would be getting from the Auditing firm made it one of the largest settlements Richard had ever won. He should be happy and he was for his client, Serena. Yes, that's how he needed to think of her. As his client, not as the vibrant young woman, that a foolish old man was losing his heart to.

He rang the bell at her door and it immediately opened as if she had been standing behind it waiting for him. She was wearing some kind of lounging robe in a plum silk. It molded to her body and moved as she did. Richard felt his mouth go dry as she handed him a Bloody Mary and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. 

“Brunch is ready,” she almost whispered and she smiled wickedly. “And I have a surprise for desert.”

It was then that Richard's phone rang.

*****

Emily had finished her explanation: The introduction to Lieutenant DeSaix, and it had confirmed Avery's original suspicions. DeSaix was an innocent cog caught up by circumstance. She had simply come to Washington at the wrong time and by happenstance run into the wrong person. He sighed and looked at Emily and then at Miranda. “It's too late,” he said softly. “I have already given Senator Meriwether everything he needs to destroy her.” 

Miranda glared at him and pursed her lips, but said nothing. Emily waited for a few beats and then the realization struck her that Miranda was waiting for her to act. She tried to calm herself. She tried to put herself in Miranda’s shoes and think like her. When that didn't come immediately, and knowing that Miranda hated to be kept waiting she decided to do it like she handled her job at Runway. Step one, know everything you can about the problem. “Exactly what information did you give the Senator?” she demanded. From the corner of her eye she thought she saw Miranda's lips turn up in a small smile. 

Avery watched the interaction of the two women closely. He owed Miranda and she was calling the debt due. Payment was to be made in the form of help to her evidently green protégé who apparently had some personal stake in this, which she hadn't admitted to during her explanation of events, nevertheless, it was something significant to this woman. So much so, that she had taken the trouble to try and handle the matter herself by getting close to the Senator. Avery's long experience told him that this situation was likely to become very messy in the immediate future. “I gave him information on a woman named Carol Rodriguez. She and DeSaix had a thing, several years ago. She joined the Army to be with DeSaix and then DeSaix broke off the relationship. Word is that Rodriguez didn't take it too well and might be looking for payback.”

Emily swallowed hard. She hadn't quite been prepared for that. Not that she hadn’t expected DeSaix to have never have been involved with anyone else. The ball of jealousy in her stomach just came as a surprise. So what if she had never managed a long term relationship? It didn’t mean she couldn’t do it one day., But they had all that baggage of the lying and the arrest and imprisonment. DeSaix had been right, Emily reminded herself, they could never get past that. 

Emily made up her mind. She would foil this plot against DeSaix and then they'd both go their own way. She looked at Miranda and Miranda raised her eyebrows impatiently. Step two, devise a plan of action.

*****

Serena was jealous and angry. 

It was a rare occurrence for her to feel the way she was feeling. She was usually so good natured, but then in truth, she had never really met a man who was worthy of being possessive of. In this instance she had wanted the day to be special. She'd wanted Richard all to herself. She'd planned to feed him a wonderful brunch she, herself, had prepared—there was that old saying about the way to a man's heart being through his stomach and she intended to have all of her bases covered. - Under her lounging robe she was wearing Agent Provocateur lingerie, she had really pulled out the big guns to make sure that she got what she had been waiting so patiently for. Serena was by no means promiscuous, but she enjoyed sex thoroughly and the idea of a meaningful sexual encounter with the man that she had fallen in love with, excited her no end. 

But Richard's estranged wife had put an end to that dream, by calling, interrupting her plans before they’d even started. The woman had demanding a meeting immediately without any further explanation and when Richard learned that his estranged wife was in New York he had assumed it to be some sort of an emergency involving his daughter. Although he apologized profusely to Serena before excusing himself, she couldn’t help the disappointment that filled her. 

As Serena, sloped into her bedroom changing into a comfortable pair of jeans and a tee shirt, she allowed a dark thought to fill her mind. She could follow him and see this demonic woman for herself. Technically it wouldn’t be stalking, she told herself, it would just be keeping an eye on the competition. She considered her options, she would put her hair up under one of those silly baseball caps and don her largest pair of sun glasses to disguise her face. She grabbed her keys from near the front door, and raced down the stairs in the hope of catching up to Richard.

***** 

Emily had been quite thorough in her questioning of Vernon Avery, Miranda mused. Now would be the real test, would Emily be able to anticipate what the Senator would do with the information he had? Would she be able to deal with the potential threat to Lieutenant DeSaix? Miranda's love for her country and her loyalty to Michelle—a woman she was beginning to consider a friend, remained strong. She had been asked indirectly as a matter of National Security not to interfere with Andrea's mission in Italy. This had left Miranda bereft, without immediate purpose and with far too much time on her hands. Now she had a project to focus on, her blossoming Assistant, Emily. 

Emily sat silently for a few moments, mulling over the problem. She broke the silence and turned to Avery. “If the ‘Don't Ask, don't tell’ rule means that the Army can't use this woman's uncorroborated testimony,, then surely they have to force an incident. Something that will give them the proof, like pictures of them in bed together,” she said analyzing the situation.

Avery nodded. “That's the way I'd do it. Set the Lieutenant up. Get photographic evidence and then string her up on the chopping board.”

Miranda sat silently, watching the two discuss what was to be done next. She had known for some time that Emily was one of the most competent assistants she had ever had. Miranda paused and scoffed internally at her own stupid reasoning—if she hadn't been competent, she wouldn't have remained in her employ for so long. She did wonder, however, how she had missed the fact that an answer to her concerns about the future of her magazine had been sitting just outside her office for nearly two years. Nigel's release was on the immediate horizon. Elias Clark would be starting up the men's fashion magazine, ‘Cutting Edge’ just as she had envisioned it and she had made sure that Nigel was top of the list to take Editor-in-Chief. She also hoped it would even the scales as far as her betrayal of his hopes of the job with James Holt the previous year in Paris. Emily was beginning to prove that one day she would be capable of ascending to Miranda's throne. Emily’s strength had surprised Miranda, it was time to move her up and prove that she could cut it.

*****

“So I got to thinking,” Ian said pausing a moment to sip his coffee. “If the three of us were to band together we could form the nucleus of a new clique. I'm betting with the two of you at the helm it would attract a number of the girls from Ashlyn's group and a bunch of the eight and ninth graders too. We could make it a more...inclusive group. Not the elitist stuck-up bitch ‘thing’ that’s happening now...”

Caroline cleared her throat from the room's doorway and Ian turned. Cassidy had a clear view of his face and saw the flush that rose in his cheeks as he saw her sister in the entryway. Cassidy smiled to herself. Interesting, she thought, before addressing her Sister, with a devilish smile on her face. “Caro, Ian was just presenting an idea that he's had...” 

*****

Being a news junkie had it's perks. It often meant that Wade was aware of things relating to his wife before the proverbial ‘shit’ could hit the fan, and ultimately prepare. For example, he was aware that Miranda had left Paris early—which, was a sign of the apocalypse—and now the media had confirmed that she was in Washington D.C. The fact that she had traveled there rather than having returned to New York and her children spoke volumes. There was lot to be discussed, but this was not a conversation to be had over the phone, that was a recipe for disaster. This would need to be a face to face conversation. Wade sighed as he looked at the telephone, before picking up the receiver and dialing Miranda's private cell phone. It rang twice before Miranda answered.

Wade,” she said by way of greeting. “Is something wrong? Are the girls alright?” He could hear the concern in her voice. It was something of a tradition that short of an emergency the 'family' left Miranda to her own devices during Fashion Week.

“No, Miranda.” he answered. “Everything is fine with our girls,” he offered. “I was wondering if you are still planning to return to New York today. It’s just according to Perez, I don’t see how that is possible.”

Miranda felt the tension and the unusual tone of resentment in his voice. While her last two marriages had ended in acrimony, her separation and divorce from Wade had been difficult. The tempestuous passion between them had been very destructive but very real. She knew Wade well and knew that he would not have called without a reason, and that his tone meant ‘business’. “Something came up and I had to change my schedule. I had planned to call the girls later this afternoon and explain that my return home was going to be delayed.” 

“Very well.” Wade agreed. “However, something is occurring here at home and I feel the need to speak with you about it in person, before you return home.”

“I… erm” Miranda began awkwardly. 

Wade knew that his ex-wife, detested having to explain herself. “I'm aware that you're in Washington, Miranda. I was hoping to join you there tomorrow morning. After I drop the girls at school, I can be there in time for a late breakfast.” Wade offered, tentatively testing the waters. .

Miranda was silent for a long moment. She swallowed softly, “Do I need to contact my lawyers Wade?” She asked. “Will they be necessary for this discussion?” 

Wade sighed. “Not right away, we’ve always been amicable in the past. This doesn’t need to be any different.” he answered. “Look, there are some things that are going on with Caroline and Cassidy that I feel you should be aware of before you see them again and also, I think it’s time we revisited the custody arrangement. I'd like to have the girls half the time.”

Miranda paused and then spoke. “What about your career and your firm? They have always taken precedence. You are at home less than I am,” she said firmly but there was no malice in her tone.

“I've put my share of the firm up for sale. I've decided that it’s time to pursue other interests,” he replied.

“What other interests?” Miranda asked, feeling the foundations of everything she knew about the man’s priorities tilt on their axis.

“Building a relationship with my daughters,” he answered.

Miranda was stunned. Once Wade made his mind up about something he would do it. If Wade had decided to sell off his share in the firm that he had helped to build, then he was going to do it. If he said that he was going to devote his time to building a relationship with his daughters then it was going to happen. Miranda nodded, to herself. “I am willing to entertain your proposal,” she answered. “I think we will need the law vultures eventually, to formalize anything we decide on, but I don't think they will be necessary tomorrow. Shall we say Brunch at eleven-thirty?

“Yes, that would be good,” Wade said. “Now where shall we meet?"

*****

Richard arrived at the Starbucks coffee shop on 42nd Street close to Times Square a little after Noon and found his estranged wife sitting at a table and waiting for him. He could tell immediately that her mind was made up about something; after nearly thirty years of marriage to the often-difficult woman it wasn’t hard to read her body language. He went to the counter and purchased two cups of coffee, preparing hers as she liked it, seemingly by habit, before heading to the table. Placing the coffee before her, he sat. “What's the emergency Janet? What's so important that it couldn't wait a day or two until I got home?” He asked sharply.

Janet didn't flinch. Staring him down coldly, she stated her business. “I'm moving back into the house when I get back to Cincinnati tonight. When Andy gets back from the hospital she's going to move in with me. I'm going to take care of her.”

Richard felt the anger rise in him. This was not the first time Janet had lied to his face. He looked her in the eyes his own eyes narrowing. “Couldn't you have put a little more thought into your story, Janet?” He said, clearly indicating his feelings through his tone. “We both know perfectly well that Andy is not in the Hospital. She hasn't been there for over for a week. She's on assignment with the Army in Italy. I know that you knew about her being awarded the Medal of Honor and that you didn't call me. How could you, Janet? The President of the United States of America decorated our Daughter for her courage and honor. It should have been one of the proudest moments in my life and yet, you didn’t bother to tell me. I don't know if I'll ever forgive you for this.”

Janet looked at him, her own discontent boiling just below the surface. “You had gone to New York, I didn't know where to find you,” she answered petulantly.

Richard looked at her askance. “I've had the same cell phone number for the past ten years,” he answered flatly.

Unable to rationalize what she'd done out of spite, Janet tried to turn the conversation back to her original purpose. “When Andy comes back, she's going to move in with me. I'm going to take care of her...She needs me.”

“HA!” Richard replied angrily. “Andy isn't going to want to live with you, Janet. Like an arrow from its bow, she's going to come back to this city. She’ll come here to look for what she's lost, what she knows in her heart is missing and if you believe anything else you're fooling yourself! Andy has a hole in her life and until she finds the answers, she won't stop! You should know your daughter at least that well!”

“NO!” Janet exclaimed. “She can't come back here! Coming back here will destroy her! You have to help me stop her! You're her father! She'll listen to you! She's always listened to you!”

Disguised in her ball cap and sunglasses, Serena strolled nonchalantly into the Starbucks on 42nd Street just in time to hear the angry words leave the woman’s mouth. The woman she assumed to be Richard's estranged wife.. She passed the table discreetly and felt the angry vibe pulsing in waves from the couple, the tension was palpable. 

Richard was so caught up in both the anger and distress that he had failed to notice Serena’s arrival. 

Serena felt her own anger rise as she witnessed first hand what this woman, this ‘Wicked Witch’ was capable of doing to ‘her’ Richard.. She did not like seeing him that upset. Moving to the serving counter, she placed herself in a position to continue eavesdropping without looking too obvious, while she waited for the Barista to prepare the latte she had ordered.

Still shocked by Janet’s delusional words, Richard looked in to her eyes, this was a woman, that, once upon a time, he had loved. Now, it was clear, he no longer felt anything but pity for the toxic woman. “Why, Janet?” He challenged, his tone sharp. “Because she might find out that she was in love with Miranda Priestly? The woman who made her made her so happy?” He blew out the exasperated air that he’d been subconsciously holding and continued, “the only thing that I’m going to encourage our daughter to do is to follow her heart and to get well. If her heart says she should love another woman then I'm going to accept that woman into my family and make her welcome. And let me tell you something Janet, if you can't find it in yourself to do that, you will lose her. She'll turn her back on you and walk away.”

From her position as the counter, Serena seethed. This woman had gone too far, she would not allow her to speak to her man like this, she decided it was time to take action, Undoing the bottom buttons of her shirt, she tied it up under her ribs, barring her magnificent torso. She took off her sunglasses and freed her luxurious hair. Taking her latte in-hand she pivoted on her four-inch heels and adopted the ‘bored’ pose, that she had seen on the faces of hundreds of models, at hundreds of Runway photo shoots. “Richard, my darling, she announced, allowing her rich Brazilian accent to flavor the words. “It was very naughty of you to run off before we had breakfast.” She leaned in to him and gently brushed her lips across his. 

Janet was shocked into speechlessness, at the vision of a young and stunningly beautiful woman kissing her estranged husband, .The man, whom she had spent nearly thirty years with had already move on. “Richard!” she demanded. “Who is this woman?!”

Richard was as surprised by Serena's sudden appearance as Janet was, but he refused to give the bitter woman the satisfaction of knowing that. Instead, he chose to smile sweetly at the Brazilian beauty and go with the flow of whatever it was she was planning. Even if it was incredibly distracting as she snaked her hand down his arm and intertwined her fingers with his possessively.

“Is this some whore you hired?!” Janet accused stridently, allowing her volume to increase carelessly.

“That is quite enough, Janet,” Richard warned, as the anger that he’d been controlling flared hot and bright. . “This is Serena. A friend and co-worker of Andy's, she has been helping me to find our daughter.” 

“But…what… she…” Janet stumbled over her words. “ Did you spend the night with her Richard?! Did you sleep with her?!” Janet demanded.

Richard opened his mouth to answer but Serena beat him to the punch. “No, Mrs. Sachs, Richard has not slept with me...yet. Your telephone call this morning rudely interrupted my plans in that direction.” she answered lightly. “I truly didn't appreciate it,” she continued, her eyes leveled with Janet and sparkled with mischief. “I was very much looking forward to spending the afternoon in bed with him.” She teased as the words dripped off her tongue. 

Richard felt electricity crackle in the air, as he looked from his soon-to-be ex-wife to the Brazilian beauty. It was the calm before the storm, as he knew that things were about to decline rapidly downhill.

*****


	30. Chapter 30

Amelie Pelletier, the rookie Private Investigator, had spent a frustrating day attempting to gather information about Corporal Andrea Sachs of the 192nd Supply Regiment of the Ohio National Guard. However, beyond her place of birth, her schooling and the fact that she had been awarded the Medal of Honor, there was really nothing to go on. Andrea Sachs was a non-entity.

Being a French Private Investigator in Italy was proving to be more difficult than she had anticipated. She had few contacts in the United States and so far she had been forced in large part to rely on what had been printed in newspapers and the Internet for the mere scraps she had obtained so far.

In the late evening, Amelia was summoned to Bella's living room, where she was expected to give her employer an update report. She tried to think of the best way to present the paltry amount of information she had gathered in a way that would not make the beautiful model lose confidence in her. Standing in front of the woman, she felt Bella's eyes staring at her impatiently, she knew that she must say something, so she decided to start at the beginning.

“Andrea Sachs was born on January twelfth, nineteen-eighty-five in Cincinnati, Ohio, in the United States of America. She attended school there in the public school system until her High School graduation from Mairemont High School. From there she was accepted into Northwestern University, where she obtained a degree with honors in Journalism. She joined the Ohio National Guard prior to her going to University, apparently, as a means of funding her education. After her graduation from the University, she completed a four year enlistment, including a year tour overseas in Afghanistan in a supply regiment. She returned to civilian life for a year and a half, then five months ago her unit was reactivated and sent back to Afghanistan.

Bella's cold stare, morphed into one of boredom, but beneath the surface Amelie could see that her eyes were beginning to flare. She could feel the growing anger radiating from across the room. Amelie swallowed nervously and continued the summary. “Before her recall into the National Guard and her most recent deployment to Afghanistan she worked at Runway Magazine in New York City for a little more than a year...” Amelie stepped forward and nervously handed Bella a photograph, which she had found on the internet. The candid shot showed a somber Andrea Sachs, dressed from head to toe in couture, standing behind Miranda Priestly at what appeared to be a formal function. “During her employ at Runway Magazine, she was the second assistant to the Editor in Chief. Who is also pictured in the photograph.” Amelia temporized, still trying to figure out a way to pad out her pitiful report and somehow keep the only paying job she'd had in months.

“Miranda Priestly's Assistant,” Bella whispered, gazing at the photograph in her hands.

Amelie saw the devilish grin creep upon the Italian woman’s face and felt a moment of panic. She had not yet learned how to read Bella’s expressions, was she pleased with the information or was she about to unleash her discontent?

Bella looked up from the photo and her smile softened. “I knew there was a reason I hired you Amelie. This is excellent work. It gives me exactly what I need.” She assured softly.

Amelie breathed an audible sigh of relief. She couldn't believe her good fortune. She had managed to please Bella, although she had no idea how. She thanked her lucky stars and her father for his insistence in studying languages, for she would have been at a loss without the American tabloids.

“Tomorrow morning, be dressed and ready to leave at six AM. You will be accompanying me for the day” Bella paused and looked the young French woman up and down. “Wear the black Dolce that I picked out for you. In the meantime, I have another task for you.”

“Of course, Bella.” Amelie took out a notepad from her pocket and prepared to scribe.

“Almost two years ago I did a shoot for French Runway on the Island of Trinidad in the Caribbean. American Runway was there covering another shoot. I’d like you to find out everything you can about that shoot.” She waited for Amelie to finish her note taking and dismissed her with a wave of her hand.

Amelie left without question, passing Lucrezia on her way out of the room. As she turned to the close the door she watched Lucrezia silently pour herself a cup of coffee from the pot on table, before moving to sit beside Bella.

As the door closed Bella turned to look at her Assistant. “Is all in readiness for tomorrow?” She asked softly.

Lucrezia nodded, “Yes Bella. You have a hotel room booked near each of the scheduled events. The outfits you have selected for each event have already been delivered to their respective hotels and your Driver has been fully briefed on your schedule.”

“Good,” Bella purred, smiling once more. “Now to bed. Tomorrow will be an important day.”

As the two woman left the room Bella fell in beside Lucrezia and linked her arm gently. “I’ve decided that it will be the shoot in Trinidad. That is where the story will begin, that will be where I stole my Andy’s heart.”

Lucrezia opened her mouth to object, to again tell the woman she cared about that she was making a mistake. She knew in her gut that the plan was ultimately doomed to failure. Instead she held her tongue. Bella was hell bent on this course and nothing could stop her. So, Lucrezia would do as she always did, and take her unquestioning place at Bella's side. She would support her and then once again be there to pick up the pieces of Bella's shattered heart and ego when her plot undoubtedly failed.

*****

Evening found a rather shell shocked Richard holding a glass of very fine Cognac on Serena's balcony overlooking a scenic Manhattan skyline. His day had been surreal. The argument with his soon to be ex-wife at Starbucks had threatened to escalate to where it would have embarrassed him terribly, but Serena hadn't let it happen. She had somehow taken control of the situation and as Janet had become shrill, Serena had looked her in the eye and quietly said “you have cast him away. He is mine now. And I will fight to keep him.” That statement had miraculously shut Janet up and Richard had taken advantage her silence to inform her that he didn’t want anything more to do with her. She could have the house, when he returned to Cincinnati he would remove his possessions. Deep down, he wasn't even sure he would be returning to the city of his birth on any kind of a permanent basis. Somehow New York suddenly seemed to hold a great deal more promise.

“Richard,” came Serena's smoky voice from just inside the french doors to the balcony. He turned and the sight that met his eyes nearly made him drop his brandy glass. She stood there in the bedroom doorway clad only in lingerie, like a vision from an erotic dream. Behind her a riot of colorful flowers festooned the room beyond.

“I've been good Richard,” she purred her tone seductive. “I've waited as patiently as I could.” She held out a hand beckoning to him. “Now it's time for you to come to bed.”

*****

Andy's second full day in Italy was every bit as tightly scheduled and hectic as the first. So much so, even DeSaix and Scruggs struggled to keep up, but somehow Andy found the breakneck pace comfortable and at times strangely comforting. For the first time, she began to believe that her seemingly missing memory was trying to break through it’s concrete wall; through dreams, senses and instinct. She had seen the madness at Runway first-hand the previous week. A week where Miranda was out of the country, it had been organized chaos. She knew that it must be a hundred times worse when Miranda was in town. Her instinct told her that comfort because this type of pace was her life. At one time, she had lived it, breathed it and loved it.

As she was handed a large pair of scissors to ceremoniously cut the ribbon for the opening of a new art museum her eyes met with a familiar stare. The Italian Model Bella Giovanni was once again sitting in the front row of the crowd. Bella had been at the forefront of each event so far and curiously, here she was again.

As curious as her presence was, Andy couldn’t deny that the Italian beauty wasn't spectacularly easy to look at. Her seductive smile and sparkling eyes were something that she had found herself looking for in the crowd at each event. The elegance of the woman's ever changing wardrobe resonated with Andy, she supposed it likely that her damaged memory was again hinting at things that had happened in the past few years of her life at Runway, but as yet the answers remained elusive. She and Bella had shared several moments of conversation at the various events over the past two days and although it was subtle, the Italian woman had dropped some hints that had known each other before. Andy couldn't imagine where that might have been, save at her time at Runway. So, she decided to go with the flow, a familiar face in the crowd was a nice change and Andy returned the beautiful woman's smile.

*****

Dressed in a subtle disguise consisting of large sunglasses, a blonde wig and a flight attendant's uniform, Carol Rodriguez arrived at the Splendide Royal Hotel in the late Morning. The Senator's aide had assured her that she had a reservation on the same floor as DeSaix and her military detail, so checking in had posed no problem. The only potential difficulty in her opinion, would be a mistimed encounter with DeSaix before she was ready to execute her plan. If that happened it would potentially ruin everything. . Thankfully the extremely helpful and over-talkative Bellhop, who carried her luggage to her room, gave her information concerning the 'hero's' busy schedule. Knowing that her ex-lover would be out touring the city for the next few hours allayed her fears.

By mid-afternoon, Rodriguez had made contact with the private investigator/photographer that the Senator's aide had hired and together they refined Rodriguez's plan to ruin the life of one Lieutenant Meriwether DeSaix.

*****

Arriving at the Piazza di Spagna, Andy breathed a sigh of relief as the government officials, who had been accompanying the American touring party momentarily seemed to run out of steam and backed off. At the top of the long steps in the Trinita dei Monti church, separated from the rest of the group, Andy took the opportunity to ask DeSaix for a moment alone, to enjoy the silent beauty of the nave. DeSaix nodded and led Scruggs to sit by the fountain just outside of the church.

The paparazzi and the public crowd had been kept at bay and asked to respect the privacy of the visitor as she toured the beautiful grounds.

A watchful Bella—who had affiliated herself as part of the touring party— saw her chance and signaled for the accompanying Amelie, to find somewhere else to be.

After a moment of brisk walking, Bella was inside the church and beside the object of her obsession. With a feather light touch to the woman's wrist Bella had Andy's attention. Instantly Bella found herself falling into those doe brown eyes.

Andy smiled back at the beautiful woman whose presence had become something of a comfort.

“Mia Andy,” the woman whispered starring into her eyes. “I have so missed you. And I know you don't remember right now, but we know each well, we once shared a beautiful moment in time. It was the most wonderful few nights together.”

Andy’s brow furrowed, as she search her heart and mind for the memory.

Bella's eyes became sad and she looked away. “I have been very naughty, for I have taken a dozen lovers since we met at that photo shoot in Trinidad. Please believe me when I tell you that I've never been able to forget you. I've never forgotten what we had together.” She looked at Andy with tears in her eyes. It was a bravissima performance, worthy of a David DiDonatello Award or an Oscar. She saw the woman's uncertainty and felt her need for both comfort and affection. It would have been so easy to push the moment and take Andy home to her bed. But this time Bella wanted more than a fling. More than a handful of nights of pleasure. She schooled herself to patience. “I've never gotten over you,” she offered softly. “But we have time now. Now that I have found you again. I'll wait for you Mia Andy.”

Andy was surprised, but she also yearned for the comfort offered. She felt the tears threatening to brim and closed her eyes. Bella spoke her name again, but this time it was different, with her eyes closed it was a different voice she heard whisper “My Andrea...”

*****

Scruggs perused the books in the Anglo American Bookstore on the Via delle Vite, while the L.T. rested her feet by the fountain in the company of half a dozen government functionaries, five times that many reporters and what seemed to be about half the population of Rome held back behind the safety barrier.

He was glad to be out of the crowd for the moment. These people weren't giving Sachs even a second to herself and Scruggs knew that it was taking it’s toll on the woman. He was coming more and more to admire her, the determination and quiet strength she displayed without even trying. She was doing the Army and her Country proud here. The Italians wanted to celebrate her and she, in turn, was putting on a stellar performance of celebrating everything Italian. She had all of them eating out of her hand. He smiled at the thought and picked up a copy of a book called The Perfect Match, a reference book, detailing one hundred and sixty breeds of dogs and then he added a copy of Your Purebred Puppy: A Buyer's Guide to his growing pile of books. He knew he'd have some time to kill while sitting the duty on Sachs and when the L.T. was on duty he'd have some time to read. He saw this as the perfect opportunity to narrow down the search on what kind of dogs he wanted to raise when he opened his kennel.

As he perused another volume he noticed a young women looking through the shelf beside him. He noticed that she had selected a book on Bichon Friese. He smiled at the woman and she returned the smile. He nodded to the book in her hand. “Thinking of getting a dog?” He asked, expecting her to look at him blankly, not understanding his Americanized English coupled with his backwoods Blue Ridge South Carolina accent. He was surprised when she replied “Non, I have two,” laughingly in heavily accented English. She held up the book displaying the picture on the cover. “They are my children, Orpheus and Eurydice.”

He smiled wider and held out his selection of books for her inspection. “I'm going to open a kennel when I leave of the Army in a couple of months. I'm still trying to decide on a breed.”

She nodded, smiling encouragement. “Have you any you favor over the others?” She asked, flirting with the big man.

Scruggs shuffled a little bit. An attractive well dressed lady who liked dogs flirting with him was not something he was used too. “Uh,” he temporized, “Right now I'm thinking big dogs, Great Danes maybe, or Newfoundlands... “

The pretty woman held out her free hand. “My name is Amelie.” She smiled.

Fumbling with books, moving them from right to left, he wiped his palm and took the woman’s waiting hand. “Urrr, T.J, nice to meet you Amelie.” He beamed, feeling the blush reach his cheeks.

*****

As Sunday evening came around, Emily found herself once more, in the company of Senator Beaufort Meriwether. This evening he had chosen to show off his latest “conquest” by taking her to a party as his escort. The party was held was in an elegant Georgetown home, where many of the Washington elite had homes. The names on the guest list were a ‘who’s-who’ of high society, people that Emily both recognized and half recognized from the many Charity functions that Miranda was invited to. She had spent the early part of the part of the evening on her escort's arm being shown off as other powerful men eyed her lasciviously, whilst the Senator alluded to the things he could “do” for Emily, if she would consider coming to work for him rather than staying with the consulate.

Parading on the Senator's arm she caught sight of Mr. Avery briefly in the crowd. He was talking to an elegant brunette woman, slightly older than herself, across the busy room. She didn't dare make eye contact with him as she did not wish the Senator to suspect that she knew the man beyond their very brief acquaintance in the hotel bar. While the Senator continued his sickening banter with his cronies, Emily allowed herself to take a moment and appreciate the strapless brocade Marchesa gown worn by the woman chatting to Avery. It was a stunning piece in black and gold. . She noted that the conversation between Mr. Avery and the woman seemed quite intense and for a brief moment the woman turned her head and looked directly at her . With her curiosity spiked Emily was frustrated as her attention was diverted for a moment back to her group with a question from one of the Senator’s cronies, when she looked again Mr. Avery and his female companion had disappeared from sight.

Later in the evening the Senator chose to remain seated in the drawing room, and with the amount of alcohol the ‘fat pig’ had consumed, Emily wasn't at all surprised at this choice. This left her free to mingle with the other guests, hoping to overhear anything she could use in quest to garner some hold on the Senator. The Senator, according to what Vernon Avery had told her was a corrupt S.O.B. with a closet full of skeletons just waiting to be unearthed. All it would take would be to find one that was embarrassing enough to get him to back off on his plans to destroy DeSaix's career. Time, however, was running out. She was suddenly caught off guard when a feminine hand grazed her arm and closed gently around her wrist. Turning she looked into the eyes of the woman in the Marchesa gown. The woman smiled and pressed a business card into Emily's hand as she leaned into air kiss Emily’s cheek. “Tea, two o'clock tomorrow.” she spoke softly into her ear, in a sultry Eastern European accent. In the next second she was gone, disappearing back into the thick crowd. Emily looked at the card. A simple, yet elegant affair on heavy white card stock. An embossed name: Polina Nazarova, A Georgetown address and a telephone number. The name tickled at the back of Emily's mind. It was familiar, somehow but she couldn't quite place why. She secreted the card in her clutch and continued her fruitless search for something she could blackmail the senator with.

*****

Later that night Emily undressed in her hotel room. She had again had to spend the car ride back to the hotel from the party fending off the amorous advances of the drunken Senator. He'd seemed to have as many hands as an octopus. She had been thoroughly groped and pawed at; a scalding hot shower was in order. She turned on the television in the room for some company and background noise, when an article on the late night news caught her attention.

“Earlier today, the Superior Court of the District of Columbia announced the trial date for Polina Nazarova, The infamous “Georgetown Madam…” read the television news-commentator. “…is accused of running an exclusive prostitution ring that purportedly serviced many of the Washington D.C elite and powerful. Sources close to the case have told us that it was assumed that the prosecution of Ms. Nazarova would never proceed due to her so-called ‘little black book’. The book supposedly containing the names of important and powerful clients and their sexual peccadilloes. During her arrest, Ms. Nazarova was said to have made no secret of the books existence, nor of the fact that the District Attorney's office had seized it during her arrest. However, latest intelligence tells us that the book has apparently disappeared from the evidence locker...”

Emily lost track of the news-reader's words as her mind turned. Spinning on the possibilities of why a high price Washington madam, whom she'd never met, would invite her tea.

*****

It was First Period on Monday morning and Caroline Priestly had chosen to cut her Geometry class for the third time in as many weeks. Sitting in the Dalton art studio feverishly scratching designs into her drawing pad, she just couldn’t face another hour of Miss Crosswich’s soul-destroying ‘right and wrong’ angles. She needed to vent. The staff at Dalton were understanding about their students and the creative muse. Her Art teacher had called Miss Crosswich first thing and explained her absence, which meant that she could work uninterrupted. Inspiration and anger were Caroline's companions as she worked. Before first period she had encountered Ashlyn and her posse, which had only added to her already vexed sensibilities. Ashlyn taken a personal affront to Caroline's choice of outfit and accouterments, something from the hottest new designer for teens around. Something that could only possibly be obtained through her mother's Runway connections. Ashlyn had always been green with envy that Caroline and Cassidy had the ability to be cutting edge long before the fashions became available on the open market.

Just to twist the knife in further, Caroline had anticipated the meeting with Ashlyn and the girls of the popular clique, so she had taken pains to have her hair done just-so to finish the look, and purposefully send Ashlyn over the edge.

Caroline had glided towards her locker with practiced ease. Her well manicured fingernails on display, and her expertly pedicured toenails peeking out of the open toed sandals, all painted obsidian black. Her lips were styled in a black bee sting pout identical to her sister's gothic look. The look was inspired from a dream she'd had the night before. In that dream an older version of herself stood drinking wine in the kitchen of Cassidy and Roxanna's first apartment near the university they were attending. As they discussed Cassidy's first year at college, Caroline was surprised to hear herself speak of working in London, as the apprentice to one of the world's premier designers of women's fashion, Orla Frostrop, as well as designing clothing for her own project company. While she stood there in the dream Cassidy and Roxanna's outfits had continued to change throughout. The dream had stayed with her when she woke and the designs her subconscious had presented demanded to be put on paper.

Her tryst with Ashlyn had fueled the darkness, the girl's hateful and twisted words had been absorbed and Caroline's simply used them to feed her imagination. First Period was only half over, and to the art teacher's delight, in a creative frenzy Caroline had already finished six sketches of Goth outfits and was rapidly closing on completion a seventh.

*****

At a discreet table in the Corduroy in downtown Washington, Wade waited patiently to meet his ex-wife. As usual, Miranda was as lovely and regal as ever as she arrived at his table. While he had some reservations about how to approach the often tempestuous and volatile woman he knew in this instance what he did, he did for his daughter's welfare and ultimately to save his own soul. As always when in Miranda's presence he was painfully reminded of why they could have never gotten through a lifetime together without killing each other.  
Miranda sat elegantly on the far side of the table and looked at the man that at one time had thought she would spend the rest of her life with. But now it felt like someone else’s life. Before Andrea. Before she had found the missing part of her soul.   
Miranda was rarely nervous going into a meeting or a negotiation. She had decades of experience in cutthroat situations, and opposition could smell fear and weakness. She was the queen of ice, her poker face was unrivaled. But this was different, this was Wade. Her Wade. She knew him and that he would not be wasting her time, not when it came to their children. Sure they had had their battles, but it was different now, they had grown, they no longer used the girls as weapons in the fight to hurt each other. 

He smiled warmly across the table at her and she felt herself relax instantly. 

“Thank you for seeing me Miranda,” he offered. “There are some things we need to discuss; some things you need to be made aware of before you return home...Before you see Cassidy again.”

Miranda cocked her head, the relaxed feeling dissipated. Outwardly she showed no sign of concern, but inwardly she clenched. Something had happened to her baby. Something important or Wade wouldn't be here. “Alright,” she replied, “I'm listening,” whatever problems they might have had with each other, Wade loved their children and whatever he was doing here was what he believed was best for them.

Wade took a moment to gather his thoughts and then dove in. “Cassidy has a girlfriend. Her name is Roxanna Gilchrist. She's a couple of years older than Cassidy and she seems very nice.”

Miranda, lips pursed and Wade watched her, as she waited for the other shoe to drop.

“Cassidy has dyed her hair...black...and has adopted a Goth wardrobe.” He swallowed. “Make-up, hair, the whole bit.” 

“Goth,” Miranda answered with one word, her tone was unamused. 

Wade nodded. “I believe she's trying to find herself,” he said softly. “To find her individuality by creating a way that she doesn't look like her sister anymore. She and her girlfriend…”

“Girlfriend?” Miranda interrupted, raising her eyebrow in question. 

“Yes, as in dating.” Wade confirmed. 

Miranda fired him with an incredulous look. “And you allowed this?” She said in the quiet voice, the one that made her employees tremble.

Wade smiled across the table at her. It was a tone he knew all too well. 

“Do you find this amusing?” Miranda mocked viciously. 

Wade stifled a laugh. “I not only allowed it Miranda, I encouraged it,” he answered proudly. “Our daughter wants to be herself, not half of a pair.”

“But Goth?” she said tightly before clearing her throat.

Wade nodded, “It's her choice Miranda, and it's my belief that you need to support it.”

Miranda glanced at him and then away to look at the table's surface. “You said something on the telephone last night about a change in the custody arrangement,” she said tentatively.

It wasn’t a tone he heard from her very often but he knew exactly what it meant. She was open, vulnerable and she could go one of two ways. Wade smiled softly again. “Yes, I'd like us to share joint custody. I want to be the Father they deserve. I'd like the girls with me half of the time. I've...I've already missed so much of their lives. I'm not allowing another minute to go by. So, I'm making arrangements so I'll have more time to spend with them.”

Returning her gaze to her ex husband, he saw the venom had left her eyes. 

“You said something about putting your share of your business on the market?” She asked curiously. 

Wade nodded enthusiastically “I've had a very significant firm offer, but my broker thinks I can do better. So I'm letting things percolate for a few days before I get back to them with an answer.” He paused and searched her eyes again for a clue on what she was thinking. “I’m serious, Miranda.” He affirmed. 

Miranda's eyes went soft. She knew Wade inside and out. She had loved him once and a small part of her always would. “What happened Wade?” She asked quietly, knowing that something must have prompted the desire for such a momentous change in his life. “What's changed?”

Wade nodded, a rueful smile played on his face. He should have known that he could never slip anything past this woman. “I had a heart attack,” he chuckled. “It made me reevaluate what's important to me.”

Wade was gratified to hear the concern in his ex wife's voice, “My God, why didn’t you tell me? Are you alright?” She asked.

He knew she still felt something for him even after everything they'd been through and done to each other. He knew she wasn’t completely heartless, not the way the media painted her to be. After all, he was the Father of her children, they would always have that. “Yes,” he answered solemnly. “It was minor, but it was the wake-up call I needed. I want to know my daughters. I want to be there for them. And I realize I'm getting a late start. I believe that they have more trust in your Andy than they do in me.”

“My Andrea?” Miranda questioned suspiciously. “What do you know about 'My Andrea'?”

“I know that you're in love with her. And I know our girls love her enough to risk your wrath trying to help her. They were the ones that helped Andy once your Assistant had been arrested...” 

Miranda rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically at the news filling her ears. 

“Cassidy's girlfriend was also arrested…” Wade continued. “…for a short time, for helping Andy hide and elude capture. It was Andy's surrendering to the M.P.s that got both of them out of Jail and probably kept our girls out of trouble too.”

Miranda nodded. “It sounds as if I'd better meet this Roxanna Gilchrist.”

Wade nodded. “Might be a good idea,” he replied. “And I'd like to meet your Andy.”

Miranda rolled her eyes again.

*****

Having been admitted through the front door by a brawny rather severe looking man in a Butler's livery, Emily waited in an elegant sitting room in a Georgetown Brownstone at a few minutes to two in the afternoon. Her eyes scanned the expensive original artwork on the walls and the numerous hardbound first editions in the built-in bookcases. Polina Nazarova, greeted her, dressed in a plum silk lounging robe that would do the best dressed list of Runway magazine proud, she swept into the room carrying a tray laden with a fine china tea service. The woman elegantly placed the tea service on a serving table and took a seat across from Emily, allowing her robe to fall open at the bottom and crossing her magnificent silk stocking clad legs. The woman smiled a sultry smile as she poured a cup of tea for her guest. “Ms. Charlton,” she said, her Russian accent flavoring her smoky voice and causing an expected thrill to run up Emily's spine. “I understand we might be in a position to help one another. Do you take cream or sugar?”

Surprised, Emily looked at her hostess for a few seconds before answering. “A splash of cream please.” She said confidently and then after a further moment's silence she continued. “And how might we do that, Ms. Nazarova?” She asked.

“Please, call me Polina. And I shall call you Emily. For we are to be friends,” she said offering the prepared cup of tea. “Mr. Avery tells me that if I aid you with your desire to control a certain Senator, you will return what I have lost. ”

Emily took the tea and covered her momentary confusion then responded. “Ms.....Polina, I'd be happy to help you, but I don't believe that I have anything of yours that I could return.”

Polina smiled, “Ah, but Mr. Avery does. And he has made it clear that when you tell him I have helped you to your satisfaction that he will give you my 'little black book” and then you will be free to return it to me.”

A devilish smile reached Emily’s lips and she raised her teacup in salute, “Polina, I think you're right. I think we're going to be very good friends.”

Polina mirrored Emily's gesture with her own cup. “Now, just which Senator do you need me to help you destroy?” she asked softly.

"Senator Beauregard Meriweather,” Emily responded, watching the other woman over the rim of her china tea cup.

Polina pouted seductively, “And here I thought you were going to ask something difficult,” she replied.

***** 

Over the course of the afternoon DeSaix had noticed that the beautiful Arabella Messalina Giovanni had managed to become a member of their entourage. The Italian Model had somehow embedded herself as Corporal Sach's close companion. The Lieutenant also noticed that, with a few whispered words the Italian officials that were their hosts seemed to defer to the Italian Model's wishes. The seating at each engagement was rearranged so that the Beauty was seated next to Sachs and in the interminable number of receiving lines Andy was forced to stand in Ms. Giovanni was placed at the Corporal's side each time. DeSaix could not say that Bella wasn’t easy to look at nor was she without charm, but there was something she couldn’t quite put her finger. The Lieutenant didn’t trust their Italian tag along, not one bit.

*****

Access to DeSaix's room proved to be no real difficulty. Carol Rodriguez was, by natural inclination, a thief. It was easy to obtain one of the master key cards that would open literally any room in the hotel. She had laid in wait, simply watching the staff patiently. When she saw a bell-hop, who had his card peeking from his uniform vest pocket, she engaged him in conversation and light flirting by asking about hotel services. When she left him she had picked his pocket and palmed the key card.

As evening gathered, hidden away in the Lieutenant’s room, she began to remove her clothes as the Photographer drilled a small hole in the closet door, through which he would take the damning pictures. As he hid himself in the closet, she positioned herself on DeSaix's bed waiting for her return. She had no illusions about what she was about to do, nor did she feel a pang of guilt. The woman had ruined her life, now she would return the favor. The plan was simple, she would seduce the woman into bed, her partner in crime would photograph all the damning evidence she needed and then she would return to the U.S. to collect her thirty pieces of silver and restart her life.

DeSaix carefully made her way down the hallway towards her hotel room. She was breaking about a million Corp rules right now and even in her inebriated state she knew that she was lucky that no-one was around to see just what kind of state she was in. In-fact she would damn right kick any of her subordinates asses if she had ever caught them in her present condition while on duty. But, if DeSaix had one weakness—other than a certain redhead—it was the fragrant taste of Grappa. As drinks went, she knew that it wasn't one that people would normally associate with a career soldier from Louisiana, but here she was. 

When the last event of the night was finally through, they had been in august company, a group of dignitaries including the American Ambassador to Italy, his senior staff, and several senior members of the Italian Government. When the drinks had been passed around to toast the 'hero' Corporal Sachs, she and Corporal Scruggs were included in the revelry and simply presented with glasses. From that point on, hers and Scrugg's glasses had not been allowed dip below half empty for the course of the hour and a half. The final nail in the coffin had been when the American Ambassador and the Italian Prime Minister had invited Sachs and her team to join them for a further toast at a more private venue. What started as a polite acceptance of the invitation, turned into a lengthy round of toasts at a premier Grappa Distillery. By the end of the evening even Scruggs—with his massive size—was using exaggerated care when he moved. Sachs had held up well, she had been the perfect smiling and obliging guest on behalf of herself and the Army, but it was plain to see that she was completely wasted. 

Safely returned to the hotel by their official driver, DeSaix had somehow managed to see Andy to her room and make sure she was okay and tucked away for the night. She had dismissed Scruggs as they passed the door to his room and wished him a good night. After several clumsy attempts at opening her door she finally made it inside and let out a sigh of relief to finally be alone. Without bothering to turn on the light she began to undress.

She unbuttoned her starched jacket and unclipped her neck tie, as she kicked off her dress shoes. Her fingers made quick work of the buttons on her shirt and skirt, and within a few moments she was down to her underwear. She sighed, relieved to be free of her binding clothes and moved towards her bed seeking the soft cotton solace that she craved. Soft warm arms stopped her movement and encircled her middle. Soft lips found the pulse point on her throat and in her inebriated state she allowed the comforting feeling to encompass her senses without challenging it. The tantalizing lips traced along the wicked erogenous zone on her neck and made her mind shut off and her body switch on. She felt soft warm naked breasts press into her back and she closed her eyes. “Oh Red,” she moaned quietly.

The warm moist lips came away from DeSaix’s throat as hands caressed her breasts through her bra. “Who's Red?” the voice whispered, in an amused tone.

DeSaix's eyes shot open. “Carol!” She exclaimed as attempted to pull away. “What are you doing here?!”

Rodriguez’ arms tightened around her waist and her mouth reattached itself to the magical spot on DeSaix’s neck. “Making you crazy,” she whispered between allowing her tongue to explore. She laughed devilishly as she loosened her grip and let her hands roam adventurously in their explorations. 

Near exhaustion and more than a little tipsy DeSaix was sorely tempted to succumb, but she saw Emily's face in her mind's eye. In this moment she admitted to herself that she had already fallen in love with the tempestuous red head, it had happened the moment they had, and that past baggage aside, she knew what she wanted now. She wanted a chance to try and build a life with the English woman. 

“Stop,” DeSaix said softly and began to move away from Rodriguez. “We were over a long time ago. There's someone else in my life now.”

The woman’s hands continued in their explorations seeking to remove DeSaix's remaining clothing. “Shhhh,” she said softly. “Relax and go with it. It’s just you and me baby. If you tell me a little about her, I'll play the game. I’ll be your Red for tonight, Darlin’. ”

DeSaix’s body took affront to the suggestion and went rigid. The anger rose in her belly and sobered her up on the spot. She pushed her intruder’s arms away and turned to face the woman. “Whatever we had is long cold and buried,” she replied, disdain filling her voice. “I was blind then. Now I know what you did. What you are.”

Rodriguez stiffened, the words were a bitter pill to swallow. She narrowed her eyes and in the darkened room DeSaix could she was looking towards the closet. “You got what we need?” She called out.

DeSaix was taken by complete surprised when a man exited the closet and hurried out the door to the hallway.

Rodriguez stood between DeSaix and the open doorway. “Not a good idea to piss people off Meri,” she said coldly. “We could have had a good time tonight before they did you over.” She turned and grabbed a pile of clothes from the chair beside the bed. As she quickly dressed she continued to speak venom in her tone. “Now you're through in your precious army. They'll kick you out on a dishonorable, just like they did to me. The people that hired me will see to that. And I've just given them all they need. Film at eleven baby...”

“Why?” was all DeSaix could say.

“Because I had a good thing and you ruined it!” The woman snarled, slamming the door on her way out.

DeSaix stood stunned, her rooted to the spot and refused to move. She could not comprehend why anyone would do something like this to her. She was ruined.

*****

Colonel Parker's aide, Corporal Benstead stood uncomfortably before the Senior Officer's desk. Envelope in hand, he had been waiting anxiously for his C.O.'s return from the officer's mess, nervous about delivering it’s sensitive contents. The envelope contained a set of accursed pictures, displaying incriminating evidence against one of the Colonel’s most respected Officers. Placing it securely on the Colonel's desk, the Corporal stepped back and awaited his orders. 

The envelope had arrived, just after the Colonel had left for lunch and Corporal Benstead had thought seriously about 'loosing' them after he'd glanced at the contents. But the man who delivered them had stated that he worked for a U.S. Senator. A member of the armed forces appropriations committee. He had also assured the soldier that a duplicate package had been sent to General Fisk at the Pentagon, so despite what his gut told him, the Corporal knew that ‘loosing’ them was not an option. 

Colonel Parker opened the envelope and fanned the pictures out across his desk He closed his eyes and whispered his frustration. “Oh Hell.” 

Although they were grainy, the pictures clearly showed the female officer, Lieutenant DeSaix in a compromising position with another woman. The evidence was shocking; she was exposed in her underwear, and each framed shot showed the unknown woman's hands as they moved around the Officers body, from her breast and down into the front of her panties. DeSaix's eyes were closed, her mouth slightly open in what appeared to be a moment of unguarded pleasure. 

The Colonel opened his eyes. “You say that they said they sent this to Fisk?”

The Corporal nodded. “Yes, sir. The S.O.B. that delivered theses was very clear on that fact.”The Colonel turned and looked at the regimental crest hanging on his office wall and shook his head. “Damn it,” he spoke through clenched teeth. “Fisk is a stickler for regulations. He's also up against the appropriations committee who are reviewing the military budget for next year. She doesn’t stand a chance in hell, she's gonna get ground up between the two.” He breathed a regretful sigh, the facts forced his hand and he nodded resolutely as he made his decision. “Issue orders over my signature. Recall DeSaix. Have her on the first available transport home. Put Scruggs in command of the Sachs detail. Start the necessary paperwork to begin a uniform code of conduct hearing under the appropriate articles.” 

The Soldier nodded in acknowledgment. “Somebody's got it in for her, Sir...” He added. 

The Colonel looked to his aide. “Somebody has already done her, she just doesn't know it yet.” He looked speculatively at the young man. “You know anybody in the intelligence branch you trust?”

The Corporal nodded. “Yes Sir. I worked with a woman during my last tour in Iraq I'd trust with my back.”

The Colonel slid the offensive glossy prints back into the envelope and rose from his chair. “Is she somewhere you can get this to her discreetly?” He asked, straightening his jacket. 

The Corporal nodded again. “Yes Sir. She's stateside and I have her personal cell phone number.”

The Colonel held the envelope out to the Corporal. “Get these to her post haste. I want to know if they are real. I'm told you can do damn near anything with photoshop these days if you know how.”

“I'll get right on it, Sir.” The Corporal answered as he took the envelope. 

“I also want to know which Goddamn Senator just torpedoed the career of a damn fine Officer.” Added the Colonel

“Yes Sir!” The Soldier replied before springing to attention and saluting the man behind the desk. 

As his aide left his office the Colonel shook his head. “DeSaix,” he said quietly to himself, “Who the hell did you piss off?”

*****


	31. Chapter 31

Emily Charleton sat shaking on her hotel room bed. She felt sick and wondered if she'd make it to the loo before she emptied what little she had in her stomach. It had been a long night with no sleep as she savagely paced the confines of her hotel room in a moral quandary. She finally had what she needed to bend Senator Meriwether to her will and she had decided that if she used it to blackmail him, as she had intended, that she'd never be able look at herself in the mirror again. The DVD that the Madam to the politically powerful in Washington D.C. had provided, showed, in graphic detail, the Senator In flagrante delicto with what was obviously an underage girl of color. He was not gentle and it became quickly evident that the girl was less than willing. Emily closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. There wasn't even a question of what Miranda might do. Emily knew, without question what she must do, even though it would destroy any chance she had to accomplish the goal of saving DeSaix's career and reputation. As the sun set on Sunday afternoon she picked up the hotel phone and called down to the desk “Where is the closest police precinct located?” She said into the device.

*****

When Scruggs had a few minutes between events during the course of the day he had made a couple of phone calls to people he knew on base back in the States. The answers he had received were the ones that he didn't want to hear. The scuttlebutt was that the L.T. had been charged under the Uniform Code of Conduct articles concerning homosexuality. Scruggs had seen others go through this, in his opinion, idiotic process. He had vaguely known a couple of them and they were good soldiers, loyal to the Corps and people he'd trust his back with. He knew for an indisputable fact that the L.T. was a good soldier. The best of the best. But once the Army had you in it’s sights under the DADT (Don't Ask, Don't Tell). articles you were done. Oh you could fight it for a while, but the Army eventually got its way and you were out. Scruggs knew that the L.T. wouldn't fight. She wouldn't want to embarrass the Corps. She'd turn in her papers and rotate back to civilian life. He swallowed hard as he hung up the phone. She'd given him her last order and by God he was going to make her proud. “Sachs!” He bellowed in his best parade ground tone. “Front and center!”

Corporal Sachs responded immediately leaving the group of admirers she'd been speaking with and snapped to attention before him. He looked her over and spoke softly “I've got the word,” he said looking directly at Sachs' worried face. “It's not good. They've charged the L.T. under the DADT. articles.” He shook his head. “We both know that the chances of her coming back from that are FUBAR (Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition). So what we're gonna do is make her last orders to us count. We're gonna do the rest of this mission by the numbers, just as if she were here,” he stated.

“Sir, Yes Sir!” Sachs responded, parade ground perfect. Scruggs sighed. It really felt pretty silly, him giving orders to an equal rank and he knew that Sachs was smarter than he was by a long shot, but the L.T. had left him in charge. God help him and Sachs both.

*****

Miranda had returned home to New York from Washington in her ex-husband’s company and went immediately from the airport to his home to see the twins. Sitting in the back of her towncar on the ride from the airport she girded herself for her coming encounter with her youngest child. She was nervous, but, on reflection, many of Wade's arguments made a lot of sense. Her babies were growing up. They had never been identical. Oh they looked alike but even as infants they had been individuals to her. Her talk with Wade had brought back memories of numerous conversations with her girls in which they had complained that no one but their mother saw each of them as individuals rather than as part of a matched set. Cassidy had risen up and taken arms against a situation that was troubling her. Granted the choice of Goth was extreme, but Miranda had made a few extreme choices herself in her youth. She had to admit that she saw a great deal of herself in her daughter's solution to the quandary she faced.

Exiting the car she approached the front door of Wade's house only to have the front door fly open and twin blurs rushed to embrace her. She leaned over and kissed Caroline's red hair and then she did the same to the head of hair as black as sin. “Hello my darlings.” she said softly. “I've missed you both so.” She stepped back and looked Cassidy up and down.

Both Cassidy and Caroline held their breath waiting for the coming explosion.

Miranda tsked. “Cassidy, I'm disappointed,” she said softly.

The young girl swallowed hard and tears threatened.

Miranda sighed theatrically, “I've taught you better than this” she continued. “This outfit needs more contrast,” she said, lifting her daughter's face and smiling down at the girl. “Some silver or white-gold at your throat and perhaps your wrist as well. And some dangling earrings I think.. I would suggest we go shopping for some jewelry and then have dinner out.” Her girls squealed their delight as Miranda glanced up at her ex-husband. “Are you free to join us Wade?” she asked airily.

***** 

Between escorting Bella to the numerous events that the hero Sachs was the center of each day, Amelie Pelletier continued to research the woman that was apparently her employer’s obsession. She had, over the last few days managed to acquire a few sources in the United States by contacting private detectives and explaining her situation. By offering to trade services, agreeing to act as their contact in Europe should any investigation they engaged in require such a contact, she, in turn, got them to look into the matter she was engaged in investigating in the U.S.A. In less than twenty-four hours she managed to gain information she hadn't gotten before. She had learned that Andy Sachs had, for a short time recently, returned to her position at Runway magazine. She dutifully reported her discovery to her employer.

*****

Arabella Messalina Giovanni smiled at the three small vials in her hand. She glanced up at her drug dealer. “You are sure this will work as I asked?” She demanded of him in her native Italian.

The young man nodded. He was the connection for illicit drugs for three-quarters of the rich and famous in Rome. He was known for his discretion and the quality of his products. “It was an unusual request. Especially from a woman. But it is what you asked for. Each dose emptied from its capsules and pre-measured to the approximate body weights you gave me,” he replied.

Bella slipped the three vials into her handbag. “It will make them pliable?” 

“Men seem to think so,” the handsome young man answered. “That's why the Americans call it 'the date rape' drug. Someone under its effects is suggestible, uninhibited, and often doesn't remember anything the next morning.” 

Bella grinned wickedly and handed him an envelope full of euros. “You're services, as always, are well worth the price,” she said quietly.

*****

Wade smiled as he watched the owner of Gothic Renaissance nearly suffer a heart attack when he recognized the Miranda Priestly walking through the door of his shop. The fashion icon's daughters, one of whom was quickly becoming his favorite customer, were excitedly looking at jewelry in the jewelry display case as La Priestly slowly walked through the racks of clothing, examining the outfits combinations displayed on each manikin. Then she'd deigned to walk over and speak with the owner. If the man had expected the Ice Queen, The Dragon Lady, The Devil in Heels, what he got was a cordial and polite woman interested in her daughter's choices and curious about the aesthetics of the Goth subculture and what fashion dos and don'ts resided in those environs. Wade had courted Miranda for three years before their marriage. He'd been married to her for ten years. He likely knew her better than any living soul. He could see in the speculative gleam in his ex-wife's eyes that her mind had started turning. Her little girl had gone Goth. Now the fashion world better grab hold of something because the Devil in Heels was likely to be dictating a sudden new change in direction.

*****

The new temporary Emily had returned from Paris with the rest of the Runway delegation. Early Monday morning she stood before the Dragon's desk after placing the synopsis she had compiled of what the people from Runway had gathered at the disaster that was Paris Fashion Week. Where other magazines had followed Miranda's lead and withdrawn their delegations, the new Emily, lacking instructions to the contrary, continued to direct the Runway delegation to attend shows and do what they'd come to do.

When the major fashion houses went home she simply rearranged the schedule so the Runway staff would attend the 'B' string shows. When those fashion houses left she assigned people to the small houses that the major fashion magazines almost never saw. The new temporary Emily stood nervously as Miranda absently and with pursed lips looked through her presentation. She was sure she was going to be fired, but she'd done her best and could take some comfort in that. Eyes never leaving the folder she was looking in, all Miranda said was “Coffee, now.” The new temporary Emily scrambled to fulfill the demand with all possible haste.

In less that ten minutes the new temporary Emily had returned with a searing hot latte just the way Miranda liked it. Not being dismissed she again stood nervously in front of Miranda's desk as Miranda continued to pour over the material she had presented. Miranda sipped her latte and made a small sound of pleasure. “What is your name again?” Miranda asked.

“Amanda,” the assistant said softly, swallowing hard.

Miranda nodded. “Amanda,” she said, “contact Human Resources and inform them that your tenure as a temporary employee for Runway is over. They are to contact the temp agency and terminate the contract effective at the end of the pay cycle.

Amanda swallowed hard. She had known she was in over her head when Miranda had left Paris. She had tried her best in difficult circumstances, no make that impossible circumstances, and she had been found wanting. She swallowed tears, surprising herself on how badly she'd wanted to stay in the job “a million girls would kill for” even if it was only as a temp. She was so focused on her feelings she almost missed the rest of what Miranda said.

“Tell H.R. that you are now officially my Second Assistant. They are to get you on the payroll and to back date your benefits eligibility to your starting date as a temp.” Miranda looked up. “I believe that you have a bright future with us if you can continue to keep your head about you and deliver as you did in Paris. Welcome to Runway. That's all.”

Amanda walked from the office to her desk in a daze. I work for Miranda Priestly, she thought. Oh my god! I work for Miranda Priestly! She didn't know if she should feel blessed or cursed.

In the Ice Queen's office Miranda smiled and sipped her nearly perfect latte. The results festooning her desk were surprising to say the least. There were several virtual unknowns whose designs were new and exciting. A world of potential. And because everybody who was anybody had followed Miranda's lead and gone home, Runway was in almost sole possession of material that she could use to set the Fashion world on it's collective ear...

*****

Meriwether DeSaix stood, frustrated, before the security desk in the lobby of the Elias-Clarke building. They wouldn't let her in and after the guard called up to the Runway offices she had been informed that Emily Charlton was not available. It being just before lunch time she wondered how she'd kill time until Emily turned up at her apartment likely sometime this evening. She sighed softly. She was unused to not having something to do.

It was then she felt the atmosphere in the lobby shift. She looked up and into ice blue eyes. The woman before her was in command; there was simply no question about that fact. She knew she was face to face with Emily's idol and the red-head's nightmare, Miranda Priestly. The Icon looked her up and down silently noting the baggy blue jeans and loose tee shirt the woman wore and then pursed her lips. “Someone needs to take you in hand and teach you how to dress,” the white-haired woman said in a quiet voice that demanded the listener's attention.

DeSaix unconsciously snapped to attention. “You're Ms. Priestly. You're Emily's boss.” DeSaix said to the woman before her. “I came, in part, to see you Ma'am. To apologize for disrupting the operations of your magazine. It wasn't Emily's fault. I was doing my duty and she was being uncooperative...”

Miranda held up a perfectly manicured hand. “We will discuss it over lunch. First, the Closet I think, because they won't let you in the restaurant dressed like that.”

DeSaix, still of a military mindset and use to following orders, followed the commanding presence without question or protest.

Half a dozen outfits had been tried, each more becoming that the last. On a previous occasion Nigel had laughingly suggested to Miranda that this woman would be worthy of gracing the pages of Runway. Miranda now knew that Nigel had not been exaggerating. She had even ventured to suggest such an arrangement, offering that a 'women of the military' article might be good for both the image of the armed services and for Runway. The woman, who a moment before had been jokingly posing in an approximation of a model on the catwalk stiffened suddenly and sighed. “I'm not in the service anymore, Ma'am,” she said softly. “I resigned my commission.”

Miranda glanced up from her examination of how the woman wore the clothes she was presently in. “Emily lead me to believe that you were a career officer,” she offered offhandedly, hoping to elicit more information.

“I was Ma'am. Or wanted to be. I was charged with violating a provision of the Uniform Code of Conduct. I found I couldn't defend myself against the charge because it was true. I decided that resigning my commission rather than standing to the charge to face an administrative separation and possibly a less that honorable discharged would save my unit and my C.O. embarrassment,” the woman said matter-of-factly.

Miranda watched this woman that had so affected Emily. Emily, who had never shone any indication of having a spine in Miranda's presence, yet was willing to stand up to Miranda in order to continue a half-baked plan to blackmail a U.S. Senator in order to save this woman's career. “Your resignation, it is because you are gay, isn't it?” The Icon asked.

DeSaix stiffened. “Begging your pardon Ma'am, but I can't see that that's any of your business,” she answered.

Miranda pursed her lips. “You were in command of the detail that went with Andrea Sachs to Italy,” she answered bluntly.

“How do you know...” Desaix asked, at first confused, then she said, “Oh, through Emily of course.”

Miranda smiled a genuine smile. “Actually I had all the details of your mission and a good deal of knowledge about the people that were accompanying Andrea prior to even knowing Emily was involved.”

DeSaix looked at the Icon suspiciously. “Why the interest in Sachs? Because she worked for you?”

“Before Andrea lost her memory we had become...involved,” Miranda said softly. “And now you, who my First Assistant trusts beyond anyone I've seen before, are not there to protect and take care of Andrea. I find this situation...unsatisfactory.”

DeSaix cocked her head and met Miranda's eyes and pursed lips unflinchingly. “Scruggs is there with her. He's a good soldier and knows how to follow orders. He's loyal to the Corps and those he serves with. He'll take care of Corporal Sachs.” 

Miranda nodded looking past the woman at another rack of clothes. “The care you have taken of Andrea puts me in your debt. And what you've done for Emily, which both fascinates and amuses me, adds to what I owe you. You'll find I'm a woman who pays what she owes.”

“What I've done for Emily?” DeSaix questioned incredulously. “All I've done for her is cause her trouble.”

Miranda laughed musically. “Emily is a most capable young woman, but she lacked both spine and confidence. She had never questioned me. Never said “no” to me, until you. I found her in the airport in Washington D.C. on my return from Paris. She was apparently there attempting to catch your party before they boarded the plane for Italy. She wanted to warn you of a plot to ruin your career in the Army. She made it quite clear to me that she was willing to sacrifice her position at Runway and any future in fashion in order to continue in her plan to force the individual that was out to ruin you to desist in his plotting.”

“Red did that for me?” DeSaix almost whispered.

Miranda continued as if she hadn't heard. “Emily has been with me for almost two years and my meeting with her in Washington opened my eyes to something I am ashamed to admit I hadn't seen before. Emily can be, with some additional training, the one I've been searching for to replace me at the helm of Runway when I retire. She has the passion, now she has begun to demonstrate the necessary strength. You are responsible for that.”

“Ma'am,” DeSaix started to answer but Miranda held up her hand. 

“Call me Miranda, and I'll call you Meriwether,” the Icon insisted. “For I believe we are very likely to be friends. And I'll hear no more about what you haven't done for people that are important to me. Although if you ever tell Emily that I said any of this I will emphatically deny it.” She looked the woman up and down one last time. “This outfit flatters you. It will do nicely. Now, to luncheon and talk about your future plans...”

***** 

It was almost too easy, Bella thought as she raced her Ferrari 458 Italia down the A1 from Rome towards Naples. Beside her in the passenger seat slumped Andy. Discovering at the luncheon today that her nemesis DeSaix had been relieved of duty and now only the big man stood guard over the hero, Bella had seen her opportunity to slip the drug she had purchased into Andy's and Scruggs' drinks. The Rohypnol had worked just as her drug dealer had promised, of course it hadn't hurt that she had slipped the big man both the dose meant for him and the dose meant for DeSaix as well. After waiting impatiently for a short while, she convinced a mentally foggy Andy to accompany her to the ladies room. From there it was no problem to walk the pliable young woman out the front door of the venue the hero had been being honored in. Reclaiming her Ferrari from the valet, Bella had strapped the semiconscious women in the passenger’s seat and driven away. A moment later Andy had passed out and Bella let her foot grow heavy on the accelerator as she mused about the future she was going to give 'her' Andy.

***** 

The balance of power among the various different grade level social cliques at Dalton shifted radically early Monday morning. The thing was that almost none of those that would soon be in the throws of what, in many of the student's opinions, would be an angst filled and life altering event, is that the momentous change in all they understood about the social compact and the way things were at Dalton started with a quiet conversation in the Headmaster’s office rather than amidst uproar amongst the student body.

Mr. Franks looked over the very thorough, well-organized and neatly typed proposal that he had been handed along with a cup of Starbucks coffee when he arrived at his office an hour and a half before the first bell. It was unusual to have students waiting for him at the door to his office that early. Even more unusual was the infectious energy he felt among the small group as they outlined the purpose of their early morning visit.

“So, under Article One-hundred and two of the Student Government Bylaws, I believe that we have met the obligation to form a committee and undertake what we are asking to do,” said Ian Sutherland, who had apparently been appointed the party's spokesperson.

Mr. Franks looked again at the first page of the proposal in his hand. It concerned the annual Charity Challenge, a fund raising event that Dalton held every year. It was run by a committee of students and benefited which ever charity the student committee sponsoring the event had proposed as that year's “cause celeb”. For as long as Mr. Franks could remember, the leaders of the popular clique were the ones that ran the project. They bullied and intimidated the other student groups into not applying for the privilege of running the project and once in control said who could and couldn't work on it. Each year the students of the popular clique were the only ones who got academic credit for the extra credit assignment. Until today. Today Mr. Franks smiled at the four students gathered before him. “I am unfamiliar with this charity you are proposing be the beneficiary of your committee's work, Mr. Sutherland,” he said softly. “What can you tell me about them? ”

Cassidy Priestly spoke up from where she sat on the office couch. “They are part of the Wounded Warrior's Project, Mr. Franks. This particular arm of the project concerns itself with acquiring and donating devices to aid soldiers that have either lost limbs or become paralyzed due to their injuries. They give things that the Veteran’s Administration can't cover due to budgetary restraints. Things that will make the wounded soldiers’ lives more fulfilling. Like a wheelchair designed for sport so a paraplegic soldier can play basketball or a prosthetic leg designed for running so someone who had lost their leg could again go running like she used to love to do.”

Mr. Franks noted the passion in Cassidy's delivery and caught the rather specific characterization towards the end of what she had said. “Do I sense that there might be a personal connection in the selection of this organization, Miss Priestly?” He asked good naturedly.

Cassidy nodded. “Yes sir,” she answered. “A good friend of my family was badly injured in Afghanistan. Lost both an arm and a leg. She used to like to go running. Caroline and I started looking into what it would take to get the Veteran's Administration to give her a leg for running on top of the one that lets her stand and walk around. We discovered that there's just not enough money for the VA to do that for all the wounded soldiers that need it. They can't even afford to provide top-rated prosthetics. So when Ian and the rest of us were working on this proposal yesterday, Caroline and I asked if we could raise money for this particular charity.”

Mr. Franks nodded. “Well, this is, without a doubt, the best proposal I've had presented to me in many a year as far as the Charity Challenge Event is concerned. I am also pleased that what you want to do to raise money isn't the same old, same old that has been done by the Popular Clique every year for the past ten years. You also call out in your proposal that you intend as a committee to be far more inclusive of the student body that the popular clique has been in the past, which weighs strongly in your favor. You, as a committee have followed all the guidelines, made a fine presentation and made your presentation during the application dates called out in the Student Government Handbook rules concerning forming the Charity Challenge committee. You are the first committee to give me an acceptable completed proposal and it is my pleasure to tell you that the four of you have a green light to proceed. You may start recruiting to other students for your idea. Congratulations, as of this moment, the four of you are now in charge of the event for this academic year.”

After seeing the four students out of his office he sat back down at his desk and considered what he had just seen. He could feel it in his bones that things were about to get shaken up at Dalton. Like any very exclusive private school, it was a given that, save for a token number of students on scholarships, the student body was made up of the children of very affluent families. But even given the 'affluence' of the alumni, the distance between the least wealthy and the richest families whose children attended the school was vast. The so-called Popular Clique, that had been running the school's social scene for a very long time, were almost all members of the most wealthy and elite families. It was Mr. Franks’ experience that the members of that particular clique were self-important, spoiled and overly coddled by their parents. They were, for the most part, in serious need of a wake-up call about what was really important in life. They were about to have their precious, long unchallenged control of the Dalton social scene severely tested and he knew immediately that he didn't want to see Ian, Roxanna, Caroline and Cassidy pay for wanting to change the status quo. Deciding to strike preemptively he reached for the telephone on his desk and made a call to Mr. Lambert, the vice-principle in charge of discipline. “Mike? It's Harold. There are some things going on that I think you need to be aware of. Would you please stop by my office as soon as you have a free minute? I want us to be ahead of what I think is coming.” he said into the telephone handset.

***** 

Twenty minutes before first period Ashlyn Miller entered the cafeteria leading a small group of the seventh grade in-crowd and headed to the table from where they normally ruled the school’s social scene. This morning they found their table occupied. Seated at the in-crowd's table was Carolyn and Cassidy Priestly, Ian Sutherland and Roxanna Gilchrist surrounded by a dozen other Dalton students including three of Ashlyn's outer circle. There was a sign on the table inviting any student that wished to, to sign up to help with Dalton's yearly charity challenge. Ashlyn's eyes narrowed and she stepped up in front of the table. “What do you think you're doing?” she demanded.

Caroline, seated next to Ian, smiled a crocodillian smile reminiscent of her mother's on a particularly bad day. “We're signing people up for the charity event,” she said, loud enough to be heard over the multiple quiet conversations going on around the table. “We've already got eighteen people.”

“You can't do that!” Ashlyn said stridently, her voice rising. “That's the event that the popular people run every year. We're going to do a formal dance again this year!”

Ian finished signing up a young man from the AV club and looking at Ashlyn, shook his head. “It's not 'your' event,” he answered her. “It's first come, first served. The first group of students to approach the Headmaster with an acceptable proposal gets the nod and the right to run the event. You and your friends haven't put in a proposal yet. We put ours in first thing this morning. Mr. Franks read it and liked the fact that we're doing something different rather than the same dance thing that the popular clique runs every year.” He pointed to the sign on the table inviting one and all to sign up to perform or help out back stage in Dalton's First Annual Poetry Slam and Talent Show. “We're going to get just as many students and student groups involved as we can.” 

“NO!” Ashlyn practically shouted. “This is our thing! We get to decide what it's going to be! You losers have no right!”

Cassidy stood from her chair. “We're not the losers here.” she said angrily. “We've followed the rules and won the right to do this fair and square.”

“Oh shut up you ugly dyke pig,” Ashlyn shouted “none of the popular crowd is going to help you with this idiotic idea. How many students do you think are going to get involved with this when I put out the word that anybody in the Popular Clique that helps out will be out on their asses and anybody from any of the other cliques will be drawing a big fat target on their backs if they dare help you?!”

Caroline stood up from her chair. “I'd be careful what you say to or about my sister and her girlfriend, Ashlyn,” she said in a deadly quiet tone very reminiscent of her mother's. “I knocked you on your behind once. Next time I do it, I'll kick you while you're down too.”

An older girl, dressed all in black, turned from where she stood at the table. Her lips were done in a black bee stung pout and the concealer she wore was very pale. The look was definitely goth. Her eyes twinkled wicked mischief as she looked at the ranting young girl. It took Ashlyn a moment to recognize Tara Flynn, the leader of the eighth grade circle of the popular clique. “I don't know about you, Ashlyn,” Tara said haughtily, “but I and some of my group are going to be singing If U See Amy in the show and I've heard that the ninth grade circle is working on some things to present too.”

A member of Ashlyn's inner circle turned around from the table to face the angry young woman, her dress was not goth, but her lips were styled in the black bee stung pout that seemed to suddenly be becoming all the rage at Dalton. “I'm going to do something in the show,” the girl said defiantly. “Some of my poetry I think. You know, that stuff that you told me was nothing but worthless crap when you asked me if you could read it? Well Ian read some of it just now and he really liked it!”

Ashlyn bridled. “If you dare get involved with their stupid show you better be ready to be without friends cause you'll be out! Just like they are!” She threatened, indicating the four-committee members seated behind the table.

Tara smiled evilly at the nearly frothing girl. “But Ashlyn dear,” she said, her voice dripping with false sympathy. “If the eight and ninth grade popular cliques are supporting the show doesn't that mean that Caroline and Cassidy are now running the seventh grade circle? I mean, who's going to follow you if we're supporting them? Nobody, that's who.”

***** 

Dejected, Emily returned from Washington via a morning train and made her way to the offices arriving about lunchtime only to discover that the worthless second assistant was in full-blown panic mode because Miranda Priestly had abandoned her schedule without so much as a word. All the silly girl knew was that a call had come in from the building security desk and Miranda had gone downstairs to see about some visitor and had not returned or called since. 

Emily sat down at her desk and eyed the chaos of paperwork that had accumulated in her absence. It wasn't as bad as she'd been anticipating, but then she remembered that Serena had been helping cover for her. She immediately decided that some kind of “thank you” was required. She picked up the phone and as she prepared to dial down to the Accessories Department Nigel entered the office and stood before her desk. “I don't care what you have to do Emily.” he said, in his teasing way. “But I must have her for the Miu Miu photo shoot the week-after-next.”

The Englishwoman looked askance at her colleague. “Nigel, please,” she replied, not feeling like bantering with him at that moment. “I've only just returned. Who do you want for the Miu Miu shoot and has Miranda cleared it? If so, give me a name and I'll get on the telephone and arrange it.”

Nigel smiled a truly wicked smile. “That delicious soldier you left here with, you silly girl. You must tell me all about what the two of you naughty girls have been up to.”

Emily looked at Nigel, confused. “She's in Italy, on a mission for the Army. She's the officer in charge of Andy's detail there,” she said softly, the lump in her throat threatening to break her thinly held control and start her weeping again at her failure to stop those that were out to ruin DeSaix.

Nigel shook his head. “Then she has a twin that really knows how to rock a Marc Jacobs raw silk pants suit. I saw her not half an hour ago boarding an elevator with our fearless leader.” He looked at Emily's shocked expression. “Oh dear,” he said, the teasing lilt gone from his tone. “Seeing you here I just assumed that the two of you had come back together.”

DeSaix is here, Emily thought to herself frantically. She had missed DeSaix so terribly, even while focused on the full time endeavor of attempting to save the woman's career in the military. She wasn't ready. Her clothes were less than adequate and rumpled from travel and she had no idea of how to approach DeSaix so that they might have a chance to get past the fact that she had lied to the woman early in their acquaintance. And DeSaix could not abide liars. What Emily did know is that she desperately wanted at a chance for a romantic relationship with the beautiful woman from Louisiana. She rose quickly from her desk and grabbed Nigel by the hand. Glaring at Emily Two she spoke sharply. “Nigel and I will be down in the closet. You handle things here.”

***** 

Miranda had found lunch in DeSaix's company a refreshing experience. The young cafe au lait skinned woman was direct and plain spoken almost to the point of being blunt. She spoke guardedly of her encounters with Miranda's first assistant, obviously treading carefully, wanting to protect Emily from anything that might make Miranda angry. Miranda for her part turned the conversation to DeSaix and what her intentions were now that she had resigned her commission in the military. 

“Haven't really thought about it yet,” was the ex-officer's answer. “ I wasn't expecting to be outed to my C.O. I've lived a lot of years under don't ask, don't tell as have a lot of other good soldiers.” She fiddled nervously with her glass of ice tea. “I guess I'll go home for a while. Then think about looking for a job.”

“And what about you and Emily?” Miranda asked, already suspecting that there would be resistance from both women to acting on what her assistant and this woman so obviously wanted.

DeSaix sadly shook her head continuing to demonstrate to Miranda's sharp eyes telltale signs of nervousness. “We talked about it before I left for Italy. I think the only thing we're in agreement about is that there isn't a future for us. Too much baggage with my arresting her and having her thrown in jail.”

Miranda nodded. “A formidable obstacle. As is the fact that she lied to you...”

DeSaix's eyes became wide with surprise. “You know about that?”

Miranda casually stirred a small splash of cream into her after-lunch coffee. “Yes. I insisted that Emily tell me all that had happened when I confronted her in Washington about why she wasn't at her post at Runway,” the Icon answered carefully. “She was in an emotional state and I believe quite a bit more...forthcoming... that she would normally be in our relationship in the past.” Miranda raised her eyes and met the eyes of the cafe au lait skinned woman across the table. “May I put a hypothetical question to you Lieutenant?” she asked.

DeSaix nodded warily.

“If you were on a mission,” Miranda began, “and lying was necessary to save the lives of your squad mates, would you lie?”

DeSaix didn't even pause to consider the question before answering, “of course I would.”

“Can you accept, that in effect, Emily has done the same thing?” Miranda asked.

“If you're concerned about the fact that Emily lied to me when we first encountered each other you needn't be,” DeSaix answered. “I've forgiven her and there's nothing I want more and than too see if something can work out between us. My fear is she'll never be able to forgive me for putting her in that awful jail and endangering her position with you.”

Miranda sipped from her coffee and smiled. “Nonsense,” she replied. “She has already forgiven you and she will curse herself if you and she do not have the chance that you were talking about.” Changing tack, Miranda asked, “what is it you wish to do now that you are no longer in the military?”

DeSaix considered for a moment. Reaching for her glass of iced tea, she shrugged. “I haven't really considered doing anything other than what I've been doing. I always thought I'd be a career officer,” she said. “The only skill I have is chasing AWOLs. It's the only thing I'm good at and I don't think there's likely much of a market for that skill out here in the real world.” She sighed softly. “ I guess I'll go home to Louisiana and see if I can't find a job in one of the parish sheriff's offices.”

“Is returning to Louisiana what you wish to do?” Miranda asked. “Emily's career, as you know, is here. And I believe with all my heart, that thanks to your influence, she has a bright future ahead of her that will carry her to the very top of the fashion hierarchy.”

“If Emily wants me, and I can find some kind of work, I'll stay wherever she is,” DeSaix replied. “But this is New York City, I doubt seriously that any branch of law enforcement that might use my talents would be willing to hire me. They tell you that if you avoid court-martial by resigning your commission, your privacy will be protected. But it's not true. Word will get out and it will be almost like I got drummed out of the Corps for being gay.”

Miranda again sipped her coffee. Then she smiled like a shark. “If you will allow me, I would like to network for you. I have a friend who I believe might be in a position to do you some good and she owes me a rather large favor. I believe that I can almost guarantee a job with the federal agency of your choice here in New York City.”

DeSaix looked warily across the table, “and what do you get out of this, Miranda?” She asked.

“I get you to stay put for the next two weeks and pose for me in the Miu Miu shoot of pantsuits for Fall. Your rather butch look will mix well with the couture Runway will be presenting. I also fear that if you are not in Emily's life she is likely to regress again into the timid young woman she once was. I have chosen her for my heir apparent to the Editor-in-Chief position at Runway and I need your strength to help forge her into what she can become.”

“So you want to help me get a job chasing fugitives in federal law enforcement and be together with Emily helping her achieve things she's probably never dream she could do? DeSaix asked incredulously.

Miranda watched the woman across the table. “Yes” she replied, “that sums it up rather nicely.”

“So how do you want to do this?” DeSaix smiled.

“Oh, I definitely think we should have some fun with it, don't you? Miranda chuckled evilly. “Here is what I thought we might do…”.

*****

Emily rushed back from the closet to her desk, only to discover that Miranda had returned to the office in her absence. She arrived just in time to hear Miranda call for her softly from her office.

The redhead was standing in the doorway in a heartbeat. She swallowed hard and gathering her reserves and her composure said “Yes, Miranda?” The Englishwoman said.

Miranda looked up at her protege, “Ms. DeSaix,” she said, indicating the woman seated in a chair in front of her desk, “will be staying in town until after we shoot the Miu Miu spread late next week. As a personal favor to me, she has been kind enough to agree to act as one of the models. She will need a place to stay...”

Emily noticed a distinct twinkle of mischief in the Ice Queen's eye and turned her head slightly to look at the woman she'd lost her heart to. Tired from the long night being interrogated by the police and then traveling to return to Runway she almost lost her professional face. Tears burned behind her eyes. Sadness that they had destroyed any chance they had at a long-term future together when they first met clawed at her heart. She would claim only one insanely intense time together with DeSaix, then the lies she had told DeSaix while protecting Andy would cause the woman to leave her. Garnering the last of her emotional strength she said, “Of course, Miranda. I'll get on arrangements for Lieutenant DeSaix's accommodations immediately.”

“Ms. DeSaix, Emily,” Miranda corrected quietly. “Ms. DeSaix is a civilian, having recently resigned her commission in the Army.” 

Emily stiffened and stole a glance at the woman seated before Miranda's desk. DeSaix sat with her back to the door so that Emily couldn't see her face, but she felt she could read the tension in the woman's posture and shoulders.

Miranda turned her head and addressed the woman seated across from her. “Meriwether, dear, why don't you go with Emily and find some place you'd like to stay. Runway will, of course, be picking up the tab. We'll meet for lunch in a few days and I'll have the contracts regarding your modeling for this shoot for you to look over and sign.”

DeSaix nodded as she rose from the chair and turned to face Emily. Emily had to admit immediately that Nigel had not been exaggerating when he had mentioned just how good DeSaix looked in the raw silk pants suit she was wearing. Emily bit down on the surge of desire she felt as DeSaix stepped past her and out the door of Miranda's office without a word.

Miranda's gaze swept back to Emily. “I will be very disappointed, Emily,” the Icon said ominously, in her terribly quiet and chilling way, “if my good friend Meriwether is at all displease by the accommodations you find her, That's all.”

Emily turned on her heel and hurried out of Miranda's office rushing to catch up with DeSaix who was already determinedly on her way to the elevators.

*****

Scruggs awoke groggy and with a screaming headache. He looked around through slitted eyes to find himself in a homey, comfortable, but unfamiliar, bedroom. A sturdy looking woman with dark hair was looking down at him worriedly. As he swam up to to full consciousness, she turned and spoke rapidly in Italian through the open doorway. In a moment an older man and a younger man, both of whom Scruggs recognized as officials from the American Consulate came into the room. The younger man was busy, talking rapidly on a cell phone, his tone urgent. Scruggs caught the end of the conversation as the man said, “no sir, still no sign of her. But apparently Corporal Scruggs is now awake and can possibly give us some insight. I'll be back in touch as soon as I know anything.” He listened for a brief moment and then finished the call with “yes sir, I'll see to it.”

Something caught in Scruggs gut. He knew instinctively something had happened to Sachs. He tried to rise and his head swam. The elder of the consulate officials push down gently on his shoulder. “Whoa there, son. You need to take it easy. You're not in any shape to be going anywhere. Somebody slipped you the mother of all mickys,” the man said kindly, the flavor of his Oklahoma heritage coming through in his accent. “You passed out at the reception. The doctor said that whatever it was that was given to you was damn near strong enough to kill you. Your heart rate slowed and so did your breathing. We were concerned enough about you that we didn't even dare move you to a hospital. You're in a bedroom of the mayor's house.” 

The younger man chimed in, his tone nasty and superior. “And Sachs has disappeared. I've just been informed by the Ambassador that she had gone AWOL once before.’ 

The older man glared at his associate and then turned to Scruggs and gently asked.” In your mind is she capable of something like drugging you in order to get away?”

Scruggs shook his head, a mistake, as his vision blurred and a sick feeling throbbed through him. “No sir!” He responded emphatically. “Sachs wouldn't go AWOL again. She believed in the mission.”

“Well she's gone,” the younger man insisted. “What do you think happened, Corporal? I mean it's not like anybody here would want to kidnap her,” he continued, condescendingly.

Scruggs was, in general, a very agreeable individual. Someone that it usually took a great deal to rub the wrong way. The younger man was part of the Diplomatic Corps. Someone that could likely cause a Corpsoral due to be discharged in a few months a whole lot of grief, but at the moment Scruggs simply didn't care, “Begging your pardon Sir, and with all due respect, Sachs made an enemy of every insurgent in the world when she called fire down on herself and the Taliban fighters on that ridge. Her picture and her story have been all over the press. All that publicity makes her a high-visibility target that any of those terrorist sons’ of bitches would love to take out.”

The older man standing beside the bed again attempted to intercede. “Son,” he said softly, “we just want to make sure she's safe, and get her back where she belongs. The Italians are mighty upset about her being missing. The fact is that the local officials feel like they've lost her on their watch. It's stirred up a hornets nest across the whole country and the civilian population is howling about it.” 

Scruggs forced himself to sit up in the bed as his head swam. He looked around the room. “Where are my pants,” he demanded.

“You were supposed to be watching her!” The younger man shrilled. “Making sure something like this didn't happen!” He paced two steps one way and two steps back. “This makes us all look bad with the Ambassador! This could be a career ender!” he continued. “So make yourself useful and tell us where she might have gone so we can clean up your mess!”

Scruggs turned on the bed and put his feet on the floor. Using his hands forced himself up off the bed. He wavered for a brief moment, then with a titanic effort of will, gained balance, drawing his massive frame up until he was standing, parade ground perfect, at attention. He took a step toward the younger consulate official and his hand shot out grabbing the younger of the two by the shirtfront, lifting the man easily up off the ground with a single hand. The Corporal then slammed the man's body into the wall behind the young man. “This mission is under military authority,” Scruggs said through clenched teeth. “And the soldier in question was left in my charge. Sachs is my responsibility, and it's up to me to go find her. So you got two choices. Help me or get the hell out of my way.”

The older of the consulate officials looked at Scruggs and nodded. “I can buy you maybe 24 hours,” he offered tentatively. “I can tell the Italian officials that we are dealing with the situation and that we do not hold them accountable for what has happened. I'll also let the Ambassador know that you are handling the situation.” He sighed softly and looked at Scruggs, “what can we at the embassy do to help?”

At this point Scruggs was struggling into his pants. “Some civies would help,” he answered. “Harder to do what I'm gonna need to do if I'm in uniform. I am also going to need to speak to the wife of the Prime Minister.”

The older man nodded, “give me your sizes and let me make a couple of calls,” he answered.

Fifteen minutes later Scruggs, dressed as any tourist might be, was out the door and on his way to a meeting with the Prime Minister's wife at a small cafe near the near the Navona Plaza, one of the most beautiful plazas in Rome.

The older man looked at the younger, an amused tone in his mild voice, but to one looking closely, his eyes gave away his disgust. “Tony, I know you're connected family-wise and that's what landed you your position in the State Department, but let me give you a hint about handling a situation diplomatically. It's not usually a good idea to piss off a guy that's damn near the size of China, cause he might decide to walk over you when on the way out of negotiations.” 

***** 

Emily stood stiffly in one of The Peninsula hotel's best suites on the seventh floor, watching DeSaix inspect the rooms. This was the sixth five star hotel the two women had visited in order to find the ex-military officer accommodations that the woman deemed satisfactory. The hotel manager, having intuited that the client he had accompanied to the room was one that Miranda Priestly was interested in, was himself, showing DeSaix the room and singing the hotel's praises . DeSaix made polite noises, but meeting Emily's eye, she gave a short negative shake of her head. Moving towards the manager she thanked him for his time and headed for the elevator. Emily made quick apologies to the man and hurried after DeSaix.

The elevator ride down to the lobby was silent, DeSaix's eyes straight ahead and Emily afraid to speak up. DeSaix had been reticent about talking since leaving Runway and Emily, in her guilt, was sure that DeSaix blamed her for the fact that the woman was no longer in her chosen profession.

Leaving the elevator and crossing the lobby of the hotel Emily quickly consulted the list of hotels she had created, planning the next place to show DeSaix. She opened her mouth to speak but DeSaix cut her off, “That one's not gonna be it either, Red,” the woman from Louisiana said, without breaking stride and stepped through the door and out onto the street where one of Elias-Clarke town-cars awaited them.

Emily slid into the back seat of the town-car and glanced at her companion. “Miranda said to find you accommodations that you would be satisfied with. I've taken you to the six best hotels in Manhattan; she grated, her temper flaring with the contrary, unagreeable, fascinating woman seated next to her. “Now you say that the next hotel won't be the right one, even when you don't know which the next hotel will be.” She shook her head, frustration welling up and tears forming in her eyes. “If you'll just give me some idea of what you're looking for, it'll save us time......”

DeSaix turned and looked at the Englishwoman sitting next to her. “ I figure that if I wait long enough you'll work your way down that list till you'll get around to offering me your couch,” she stated simply.

“My couch?” Emily stammered. “You want to stay at my place? Sleep on my couch?”

DeSaix nodded solemnly, “Yep, Red. That's what I want.”

Emily shook her head. “You can't sleep on my couch!” The red-head exclaimed. “It's horribly uncomfortable even to sit on!” 

Eyes forward, DeSaix shook her head. “That's something we're going to have to get straight between us if we're gonna start living together, Red,” she said, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “I understand that some of the clothes we'll have to wear will be uncomfortable and we'll have to do it 'cause they look good and that's important to your job. But that don't go for furniture. Furniture in our place is gonna be comfortable first. Looks come second. Furniture is a function over form thing.”

“Living together....” Emily almost whispered. “You want to live together? At my place?”

Desaix nodded, once, resolutely, still staring out the windshield of the town-car. “If the couch isn't worth sleeping on, I can crash on the floor. I've slept on worse.”

Emily looked at DeSaix wide-eyed and confused. “What about the bed?” 

DeSaix turned her eyes towards Emily and the redheaded woman shivered with the hunger she saw there. “Is that an invitation, Red?” the ex-soldier asked softly. “Cause I wouldn't invite myself into someone I care about's bed.

“Oh, don't be daft,” Emily snarled crossing the small distant between them and urgently mashing her lips to DeSaix's. The kiss was brutal, wanton, and passionate in the extreme. When she had no more breath Emily pulled her head back, “Of course it's an invitation you bloody infuriating fool...,” she whispered.


	32. Chapter 32

Emily thanked God for the hundredth time that Miranda's regular driver, Roy, was not the one chauffeuring her and DeSaix. The second time she kissed DeSaix all rational thought and self control fled. Even though in the back of an Elias-Clarke town-car there was just no stopping what was happening. Need and desire superseded any sense of decorum. Lips crushed together as two bodies tried to inhabit the same physical space. Hands roamed, pulled, stroked and caressed. One moment they were traveling back to Emily's apartment and the next they were naked among a scattering of clothing on the floor not far inside her apartment door. Their lovemaking was urgent and Emily's first orgasm was within moments of falling to the floor in DeSaix's arms.

Nothing in Emily's life had prepared her for the weekend that followed. Being with someone had never felt so natural, so right. Emily had never felt so complete. Saturday morning they had sat naked in bed leisurely drinking tea and involved in a deep discussion about the use and meaning of color as expression in abstract paintings both were familiar with. Where Emily's previous partners would have either been unable to, uninterested in or even made her feel an effete intellectual, Meriwether met her idea for idea. She didn't always think Emily right or agree with her, but she listened respectfully and thought about what Emily had to say. The tension of them being two very different individuals with vastly different life experiences remained and made their burgeoning romance all the better for its presence. In order to continue the discussion and also to introduce Meriwether to some artists she had not had the pleasure of seeing before, a date to go to the Metropolitan Museum of Modern Art was quickly decided on for Wednesday evening if Emily could manage to slip away from work early enough.

Sunday afternoon found Emily surprising herself as she eased into the role of caretaker, running a hot bath for a depressed Meriwether and then coaxing her into it; followed by a long massage of the woman's tense shoulders and neck. As her fingers struggled with hard and knotted muscles, she mused that the transition into the role she was engaged in would have been virtually unthinkable in the past. She never had any interest in soothing any of her previous bed partners. She simply didn't care that much about them as people, nor, she firmly believed, did they about her. But with this magnificently complex and honest woman relaxing beneath her ministrations everything was different. Meriwether's comfort and mood and everything else about the woman were important to her.

Emily knew that she was peripherally the cause of Meriwether's despondency. She had made the mistake earlier in the morning of bringing the outside world into their cocoon in the form of the Sunday Edition of The New York Times. She had picked it up when the pair had ventured out to get some food to go into Emily's virtually empty refrigerator. When Emily had lost herself in the Style section Meriwether's mood had suddenly gone quiet and Emily could tell the other woman had become upset. Emily had used her own experience of what worked for her when upset and implemented a hot bath and several glasses wine. As Meriwether soaked in the tub and Emily went to refill their wine glasses she glanced at the section of the paper Meriwether had been reading. Seven soldiers from Fort Mead in Maryland had been killed in an IED (Improvised Explosive Device) attack in Iraq. More had been injured. Emily knew that Meriwether couldn't possibly know if she knew the dead and injured or not, those involved weren't named in the story as their relatives had yet to be notified. It was simply that they, like Meriwether were soldiers, there doing their duty and they had died. Emily wondered how many times her Meri had faced death and she found herself saying a small prayer of thanks and one for the dead and injured as she carried the refilled wine glasses back into the bathroom.

*****  
Arabella Messalina Giovanni stood impatiently over Andy's unconscious form lying prone on Bella's bed. The Italian model's eyes devoured the vision lying before her. The girl had been stripped out of that ridiculous and unflattering uniform she was forced to wear. Following her instructions two of Bella's maids had undressed the unconscious woman after one of the burlier of the groundskeepers in Bella's employ had carried Andy's limp form from Bella's car. Bella was sorely tempted to taste the beautiful nude woman before her. Caress and lick and suck, as she had dreamed of doing ever since that day when she learned of the events that had transpired in the Kandahar Valley and the terrible price Andy had paid defending Bella's countrymen and women. She had feared that the scars the woman bore would repulse her. She was surprised to find that, without the artificial arm and leg, the amputation sites were smooth, tightly stretched skin. The scars that the hero of all Italy did carry were numerous, but scattered over one side of her body. On consideration they added character to the sleeping woman's beauty. A map of her heroism, as it were, forever imprinted on her flesh.

The beautiful dark haired diva hungered to touch and caress the prone form lying senseless before her, but that wouldn't do. Bella had spent considerable time fantasizing about the first time she and Andy would make love. Always in those fantasies Andy was transported to the throes of ecstasy by Bella's lovemaking skills and moaned and shouted out Bella's name as she reached her release. With Andy under the influence of the drug that Bella had slipped her there was no way that Andy would even feel anything the Italian model did, so for the moment Bella was frustrated in her desires. This being the case, there was little reason for Bella to remain at Andy's side. She would entertain herself by going shopping and buying a wardrobe for her Andy to wear. Calling her assistant she informed the woman of her plans. “Have the Maid's redress Mia Andy in the underthings she arrived in. Then keep an eye on out sleeping 'guest'. If she wakes, make her welcome, but do not allow her to leave the bedroom until I return.”

*****

Scruggs, dressed as a civilian for the first time in his recent memory, stood in the Navona Plaza awaiting the arrival of the Italian Prime-minister’s wife. The people at the embassy had done well for him as far as camouflage went. Other than his massive size, he fit right in with the other tourists milling about.

He used the few moments before the Prime Minister’s wife arrived to go over what he knew. The one thing Scruggs was sure of was that Lieutenant DeSaix saw things that other people didn't see. She had told him clearly that she didn't trust the beautiful Arabella Messalina Giovanni as far as she could throw her. That the woman’s interest in their charge was somehow both ominous and disquieting. One of the last orders she'd given him was to watch out for Corporal Sachs in that regard. DeSaix had also commented to him about the tension she saw between the Italian model and the Prime Minister’s wife. She noted that Ms. Giovanni would attempt to get what she wanted from whatever Italian officials were in charge of whatever event they were at. If she failed to inveigle satisfaction from that quarter she would go to the older woman, who, being the individual acting as Corporal Sachs' official hostess was at most of the events that Corporal Sachs was attending. DeSaix had pointed out to Scruggs that when this happened whatever the beautiful Italian Model wanted would then inevitably be granted by the Prime-Minister's Wife, but not gladly, never gladly. Scruggs dearly wished the L.T. were here now to run this operation. Scruggs knew he wasn't smart by general standards. He had lived a simple rural small town life prior to joining the military after barely making it out of high school. What he knew about himself, however, was that what he lacked in intelligence he made up for in dogged determination. The L.T. left him in charge of Sachs' safety. He was going to find her. When he did he was going to find out if she was where she wanted to be. If not, he was going to see to it she got home safe. That's what you did for squad mates. Nobody got left behind.

Scruggs looked up from his thoughts and the Prime-Minister's wife stood before him looking very frightened. Scruggs nodded a greeting. “I think we both know who took Corporal Sachs. I think you're scared of her. That she maybe has something on you that could hurt you.”

The woman looked away, terrified.

Scruggs voice went soft, but his eyes held his determination. “She never has to know you were involved. I just need a place to start looking. I'm going to find Corporal Sachs. And God help anybody that tries to get in the way of that.”

The older woman nodded. “She has a pleasure villa in Capri. I will give you the address,” she whispered.

*****

Feeling sick, Andy slowly clawed her way toward consciousness. Eyes still closed she tried to assess her situation. She lay on an extremely comfortable bed, under sheets that felt as if warm oil were caressing her skin. Her mind flashed to the Angel's bed, Miranda's bed, and for a fleeting moment she had a certainty that she had slept there at least once and the tactile experience of cloth on skin and sinking into a decadent comfort was much the same as she was feeling now. Groggy and feeling as if she had a huge hangover she discovered that she was unsure of where she was. Her already damaged memory couldn't seem to place how she had come to be where she was or who she might be with. Even when she had gotten so drunk on Grappa with DeSaix and Scruggs earlier during the mission she hadn't had any trouble with her short term memory and she definitely didn't remember drinking enough to black out at the luncheon. She carefully slitted open her eyes, hoping against hope that she might find herself back home in the Angel's bed. Back home with her girls, Cassidy and Caroline. Back home with Miranda. The room she saw was luxurious in the extreme, but it was gaudy in comparison to Miranda's elegantly refined and tastefully decorated bedroom. She began to sit up and realized that both her prosthetic arm and leg had been removed. She glanced to the sides of the bed and then to the foot, all places she would normally place her artificial limbs so they would be easily accessible to her when she woke. Her prostheses were nowhere in sight and their absence severely limited her mobility. She quickly continued her situational inventory realizing that she had been stripped down to her military briefs and undershirt. She used her single arm to push herself up, and, trying not to panic, called out. “Scruggs?!” She said. She waited an eternity that occurred in the confines of but a handful of heartbeats and tried again. “Corporal Scruggs!” she called urgently, “where are you?!” A moment later the door opened and a woman Andy didn't recognize stepped inside.

“Ms. Sachs?” the dark haired woman said gently, her English heavily flavored by a thick Italian accent. “My name is Lucrezia Bianchi. I am Arabella Messalina Giovanni's personal assistant.” She slowly stepped closer to the bed. “Ms. Giovanni did not think you would wake so soon. I fear she has gone shopping. She will, however, return soon.”

Andy looked at the woman. “Where's Corporal Scruggs?” She demanded, her fear and uncertainty making her angry.

“He is, how you say, gone on leave?” The woman answered, still moving closer to the bed. “Bella asked me to see to your comfort,” she offered. “Is there anything I can get for you?”

Andy looked around the room. While there was no obvious immediate threat she was vitally aware that something wasn't as it should be. The U.S. Army didn't leave one of its own unconscious in the hands of foreign nationals even if an ally. She should either be in an American military hospital or Scruggs should be here. “How long have I been out?” she asked.

“Bella brought you from the luncheon early this afternoon,” she answered gently, “apparently you fainted while there. It is now nearly dinner time. A doctor on the scene suggested that you were likely exhausted from the pace of your visit to our country and Bella convinced the government officials that her villa would be a good place for you to rest.”

From somewhere in the darkness and confusion that were the missing three years of Andy's life there was a flash of remembrance. A cracking of that blank gray wall that separated what was her most recent memory prior to her waking up in the field hospital. The gulf between memory of being an actively deployed soldier in Afghanistan during the summer of 2007 to being told by one of the medical personnel in the hospital in Germany that it was, in fact, 2010 and she had been badly injured in combat during her second deployment to the Middle-East. She knew, without question, that at some point during that missing time she had learned to know when people were being less than truthful with her. She had a strong intuition that this skill had been born of necessity during her time at Runway and she had learned it as a survival skill while under the tutelage of Miranda Priestly as her second assistant. This woman, Lucrezia, was being less than truthful. She was nervous and what she was saying was shaded with deception. Being less than fully mobile without her artificial limbs, Andy decided that she needed to play the hand she'd been dealt carefully. She forced herself to smile. “I'm sure Scruggs could use a few days to himself after babysitting me for as long as he has been,” she said, her tone falsely upbeat. “Any word on when Lieutenant DeSaix will be back from the States? Last I heard it was going to be in the next couple of days.”

“Yes,” the woman smiled. “I believe that is the case.”

Lie! Andy's mind screamed, knowing full well that DeSaix wouldn't be returning to Italy. Dread grew in her belly. Something was very wrong here and at the moment she wasn't in a position to do a whole lot about it. She nodded. “You know,” she offered, faking a yawn, “I am worn down. I think I'll try to sleep some more.” She glance to the woman, willing her to believe that she was on-board with whatever it was that was going on here. “By the way,” she asked casually, “where is my arm and my leg? I'll need them if I should wake and need to go to the bathroom or anything.”

The woman, Lucrezia she had called herself, looked positively uncomfortable, but tried to hide that fact. “They are...,” she paused for a moment as if searching for the words. “...being looked at? For damage from when you fell? They will be returned soon. If you require help call for me and I will come.”

Andy continued to smile as if all was right in the world. “Okay, I'll grab some more shut-eye,” she said, laying back down and using her one arm to arrange the sheet over her. She then closed her eyes.

She strained to listen for the woman Lucrezia leaving the room and when she heard the door close she started carefully counting off the seconds. She had decided on five minutes as a safe time frame. Long enough for Lucrezia to be comfortable that she was not going to be called back into the room and go start doing something else. Then Andy could get active trying to figure out just what the hell was going on here.  
*****

Samantha Potts was presently the youngest Editor-in-Chief in the Elias Clark publishing empire. At twenty-seven she was in charge of the newest Elias Clark publication, Teen Runway. There had been some nastiness when Teen Runway was launched a little less than a year ago. It was only a few weeks after Paris Fashion Week and a few days before the first issue was due to go to press a smiling Irv Ravits came into her office and told her that Fashionable Teen, the name the magazine had been conceived under and had until that moment been planning to launch under was to become Teen Runway prior to the release of the first issue. It was evident from the rumors circulating through the halls of Elias Clark that the name change was an attack by the CEO on the Editor-in-Chief of the original Runway. Everyone in the company knew that something had happened between them in Paris, but no one knew what it was. Everyone also knew that it had generated bad blood between Mr. Ravitz and Miranda Priestly.

Samantha was a huge fan of both Runway and the career of one Miranda Priestly. She consciously modeled herself on the example set by the larger than life white-haired Icon. So when the orders came down she did the only thing she could think of doing. She tried to handle it like she believed Miranda would have. She decided that if the name change upset the Dragon Lady then that was the Dragon Lady's problem. She dug her heels in, changed the name everywhere it needed to be changed, made sure to the best of her ability that everything down to the last punctuation mark in the premier issue was perfect and launched the magazine. Miranda Priestly, her idol, had not spoken a word to her since. It wasn't as if they had spoken before, they hadn't, but Samantha was concerned that she had made a formidable enemy in the Editor-in-Chief of Runway.

She was sitting at her desk early on a Monday morning when her assistant buzzed her. “Sam? I have Miranda Priestly for you on line one.”

It was with both surprise and trepidation the Editor-in-Chief of Teen Runway picked up the phone. “Ms Priestly,” she said, holding her breath, “What can I do for you?”

“Samantha,” the cool voice on the other end of the phone said. “I have a proposal for a joint endeavor for our publications. Might I suggest we meet for lunch to discuss it?”

*****

Miranda had suggested Caviar Russe, a five star Manhattan eatery that Samantha Potts was not influential enough yet to get a reservation at without several weeks’ notice. Samantha entered the restaurant ten minutes prior to being due and found Miranda already seated at their reserved table. The Icon, whom she had modeled her career after, rose cordially from her seat and greeted her. The greeting was not at all what the new Editor had expected. Conversation was light until orders were placed and their drinks and salads had arrived. Miranda then brought the conversation around to her purpose.

Miranda lifted her fork and speared a piece of tomato from the salad before her. “Samantha,” she said genially. “I have watched, with some interest, your development of Teen Runway and I believe that you have a bright future. I asked you here today because I would like to propose that our magazines work together to influence fashion to take another look at a particular style. One that, in my opinion, might be ready to make a comeback.”

Samantha cocked her head, intrigued. A collaboration between her magazine and Runway, the unquestioned powerhouse in the industry even beating out Vogue's numbers consistently month after month, could only be beneficial to her fledgling publication. “I'd love to work with you Miranda,' she said excitedly. “What is it you have in mind?”

Miranda drew a folder from a portfolio she had brought with her and handed it to the other Editor-in-Chief.

Samantha accepted the folder and opened it to look at its contents. She was quite surprised to discover the photographs inside were a collection of images from when “Goth” had made it's two abortive assaults on fashion, first in the late 1970's and then again in 2004. Both times after relatively short runs the look had failed to catch on with the general public and then had been relegated back to the sub-culture that embraced Goth as a lifestyle. Before speaking, Samantha looked through the pictures again, aware that Miranda was watching her. She had the feeling that she was being tested, and that this was not some kind of prank the older woman was playing on her. The lines of each of the couture pictured were flowing. The styles harkened back to the Victorian and the look on all the models shied away from the more extreme hard-lined punk elements that sometimes were included in Goth fashion. She looked up across the table. “I can see how a collaboration between our magazines could work,” she offered tentatively, “especially influencing my demographic and the younger sectors of your demographic, but I'd be crazy,” she continued, determined to be thorough in her dealings with the legend sitting across from her, “if I didn't point out that this style has been tried twice and both times it has been a non-starter commercially in main stream fashion.”

Miranda listened attentively and nodded. “Yes”, she answered, seeming pleased at the younger woman's insight and the breath of her knowledge. “I have given this subject considerable thought of late and I believe that if we were to work together we could bring Goth into the mainstream while influencing the style to trend towards the more romantic aspects of the look. Cull the more extreme elements of the fashion aesthetic, making it more palatable to a main stream audience. ”

Samantha nodded, she could easily imagine how it could be done. Articles tag teaming the style in their two magazines over coming months. Photo-spreads of designers who had been encouraged to re-conceptualize the couture. It would need to be carefully done, but if she were to be on board and with Runway leading the charge, there simply wasn't any downside for Teen Runway. As far as personal career growth went, well, working closely on a joint project with an absolute legend like Miranda Priestly would only increase her status in both the eyes of her staff and her competition. She pulled her cell phone from her purse and speed dialed her assistant. “Lisa,” she said, rapid fire, into the device, “have Jackie's assistant pull everything we have on Goth. I want the whole creative team in my office when I return from lunch. We're changing direction for the December and January issues. Get designers Max Azia and Elie Tahari in for meetings as soon as possible, they'll need a couple of weeks to have something for us to present. Get in touch with Demi Lovato's and Selena Gomez's people. They both have expressed interest in appearing in photo spreads. Arrange meetings with their managers for sometime next week. Tell them we can get Demi and Selena into the magazine before the New Year if they're willing to wear the fashions we are going to be presenting. And tell our creative team that I want them thinking proactively about the fashion shows early next year when I get there for the meeting. This is going to be a full on push coordinated with Miranda and Runway.” She snapped her phone shut and looked to the Devil in Heels seated across from her only to receive a smile from the woman.

*****

In a daze Richard Sachs strolled slowly up a New York City street idly window shopping as he went. His job in the city was finished. Serena has been messengered the huge settlement check from the accounting firm along with final paperwork from Elias-Clarke. Her signature on the documents would end the sexual harassment suit. At lunch today he had gone over the papers with her and she had signed off on the settlement. Serena had told him that it was her intention that all of the settlement money be donated to charity. She then had laughingly told him of the telephone call she had received that morning from Alice McCann, the Board member who had negotiated the Elias-Clarke side of the settlement with them. As they were ordering lunch, she laughingly related that her most important demand of Elias-Clark was already being met. Irv Ravits was at that moment in a meeting with the Editor-in-Chief and senior staff of the magazine he was now the CEO of. To be fair to the Board of Directors, they had moved Irv to the only other Elias-Clarke publication that was profitable each and every month, even if it's circulation was only a third of that of Runway's. Fairy Tale Adventures was Elias-Clarke's children's magazine and Alice had confided to Serena that she believed Irv's temperament far better suited to it's environs rather than to trying to control a creative genius like Miranda Priestly. Miranda was now free, within certain budget limitations, to steer Runway as she chose without his constant interference.

Richard had refused to accept any of the settlement even though his finances were less than adequate to stay in New York any longer. He needed to return to Cincinnati and use what monies he had left to rent an apartment so he would have someplace to live when he removed his possessions from his house of twenty-eight years. Once he had filed for divorce he could then return to his job from his leave of absence he was on. He'd at least have a wage to keep mind and body together while he tried to figure out what came next.

Richard sighed. Returning to Cincinnati was the last thing he wanted to do. The last several days had been as close to perfect as he could imagine. Serena was....amazing. It didn't matter what they were doing together, it was as if he were young again. They had laughed all through a shopping expedition to a local grocery early Sunday afternoon and upon their return to Selena's apartment they made love on the kitchen floor before the groceries had been put away. Serena had taught him a whole new way to enjoy the partially melted ice cream they had purchased and failed to immediately place in the freezer.

His conundrum was that Serena was obviously wealthy and he was not. She had a job and a life here in New York. Even if he were lucky, it would likely take him months to find one in the present economy, and that was if he could even find something that was available that he was qualified for. Apartments and daily living were expensive in New York City and after figuring out the finances involved in giving his soon to be ex-wife the house and half of the remaining financial assets they had amassed over their thirty year marriage, it was going to leave his bank account just on the positive side of empty. It was a knotty problem that he was unsure of what to do about. He and Serena were supposed to dine together tonight and the only thing he could think of as the right thing to do was to find a way to tell the best thing that had happened to him in many a year goodbye.

*****

Miranda sat in her office, sipping a piping hot latte and waiting for the call she had instructed Amelia to place to the White House. In a few moments the intercom buzzed and Amelia said “Miranda? I have the First Lady for you.” Miranda picked up phone. “Michelle, I hope that this call finds you and your family well?”

“Miranda,” The First Lady answered, “A unexpected but very pleasant surprise to hear from you. Yes Barack and the girls are well. What can I do for you today?”

“Michelle, I don't suppose that you would have any reason to know it,” the white haired icon said into the telephone, “but the woman officer that was sent to Italy in command of Andrea's detail was recalled to the States and forced to resign her commission in the Military.”

Michelle Obama bit down on the inside of her lip. She owed the woman on the other end of the phone. Owed her for continuing advice about fashion and coaxing designers that would suit the look Michelle wanted to project into contacting the First Lady's staff in order to create fashions for her. More recently Michelle had called on their fledgling friendship to ask Miranda to stay in the States and not to pursue her beloved Andrea to Italy so that Andrea could complete the mission the United States Government had sent her on. At the time Michelle had told Miranda that if she were in Miranda's position, knowing that her Andrea was without memory of her last three years and had been recently badly injured that she, Michelle, would have stayed in the U.S. and allowed Andrea to do as her nation was demanding. Even knowing that that there would be no one familiar with Andrea traveling with her. On reflection, the First Lady now wondered if that would have indeed been her chosen course of action. She sighed into the telephone receiver. “Have the Army assigned another officer to Andrea's detail?” She asked.

“Not to my knowledge,” Miranda answered tightly. “I am assured by the woman who was in charge of Andrea's detail that the Corporal left in charge can be trusted to take care of Andrea. The ex-Lieutenant, DeSaix by name, trusts him fully, so I am ready to give him the benefit of the doubt.”

“You are in touch with her?” Michelle asked, surprised. She suddenly had a sinking feeling that this wasn't Miranda her friend on the other end of the phone, but the Miranda Priestly that ruled Runway Magazine and the fashion world with an iron fist in a velvet glove.

“Yes,” Miranda answered smoothly. “She's here in New York and has agreed to pose for a shoot of Mia Mia pants suits for an upcoming issue. You, by the way, would look marvelous in a number of them. Perhaps a situation where a skirt or bare arms would be inappropriate – say a visit to some of the Arab states or Muslim countries. On a less pleasant note, Michelle,” Miranda continued. “It's a fascinating coincidence that I intend to chastise your husband for his lack of movement on one of his campaign promises in the letter from the editor in the issue DeSaix's photo-spread will appear in. But I don't suppose that your husband or his campaign staff will be particularly worried about my ramblings in a fashion magazine. It's not like I'm Fox News or MSNBC.”

“It's that stupid Don't Ask, Don't Tell policy isn't it?” Michelle grated, cursing internally. She had approached Barack about it at dinner one evening just after convincing Miranda not to interfere with the mission to Italy. He had again told her that it was his intention to fix it just as soon as his advisers thought they had a chance to push such legislation through congress successfully, but with the mid-term elections almost upon them and Republican candidates polling well ahead of their Democrat opponents nationally, this was not the time. He needed to prioritize his battles, fighting the ones he could win. The greatest good for the greatest number, he had said. And at the moment, that meant focusing on the health care debate. Michelle knew that Miranda's threat was not potent for the mid-term elections. By the time she could get to print the election would be over. But her criticism could be the first salvo of criticism aimed at her husband in the 2012 re-election efforts which would begin hard on the heels of the 2010 elections ending. Miranda would be talking directly to a large swath of women, and women represented roughly fifty-two percent of the population. She would also be speaking to and for a large number of the gay community. The combination of potential democratic votes affected would likely give those managing Barack's reelection campaign nightmares. “What can I do to put things right, Miranda?” she asked, tacitly acknowledging both the threat and her debt to the powerful woman on the other end of the phone.

“Use your influence. I want Meriwether DeSaix, ex_Lieutenant, late of the 161st MP's offered a job in Federal Law enforcement; specifically, a position that will have her stationed in the New York Metropolitan area. She is supremely qualified and should not have felt it necessary to resign her commission in the military over something that in no way affected her ability to do her job. Certainly not after years of sterling service without so much as a single reprimand in her file.”

Michelle listened and then was silent for a moment. Miranda wasn't insisting that her Andrea be brought home immediately. Wasn't even complaining that the broken woman Miranda loved was now being escorted only by one low ranking soldier. No, she was advocating for an officer of the United States Military whose career had gotten ground up against a stupid and outdated policy. Michelle couldn't do much about what went on inside the Military without getting her husband involved and that she wouldn't do. She drew the line at attempting to direct what Barack did as Commander-in-Chief. But this? All Miranda was really requiring of her would likely only take a morning of her and her staff's time networking contacts she had made since being in the White House. “You say that she has a good service record?” She asked. Listening to the reply she asked another question. “Does she have any particular skill set?” Again after a moment listening for a response. “Fugitive retrieval? Interesting...” Michelle said, searching the desk she sat at frantically for a pen and paper. “And you say that she is attractive enough that you intend to use her as a model in one of your fashion photo-spreads?” The final answer sealed the deal in Michelle's mind. She knew who to call and just what to say. “Give me a few, days Miranda,” she concluded the conversation. “I think I can help the young woman out.”

*****

Andy finished counting off five minutes and then with some difficulty slithered across the large bed and, as silently as she could, lowered herself onto the floor. She was not skilled in getting around without her prosthetics. She had missed the training sessions that dealt with such locomotion when she went AWOL (Absent With Out Leave) from the VA (Veterans Administration) hospital in Washington D.C. Using her one arm and leg she managed to reach the door to the room. It was a few moments of struggling to turn herself and arrange her body in a sitting position with her back against the wall beside the door. She carefully pushed herself up using the wall as support and balancing on her single leg. Reaching out she tested the door knob and found out it was just as she had feared. The door was locked. She fell trying to get back down to the floor but twisting her torso in desperation managed to catch herself with her hand. She lay on the ground breathing hard and listening for footsteps announcing that Lucrezia had heard her fall to the floor. Thirty seconds passed. Then a minute. Andy then pulled and pushed herself across the floor to the arched doorway leading to what she assumed was a balcony. The French doors that lead outside were a mosaic of etched glass and delicate wood filigree as was the area immediately surrounding the doorway. The distance between solid wall and the handles of the doors precluded any possibility of reaching them while using the wall for support. Andy decided from her vantage point on the floor that trusting her weight against the fragile looking glass and wood structure would be a last resort. She then started the long journey back to the bed, her mind turning on what she had discovered all the while she struggled back up onto the mattress and rearranged the covers. There really wasn't any other way she could see to read her situation. She was a prisoner.

*****

Laura Fleury had fought her way up through the cut-throat executive ranks of the A&E Network finally becoming an Executive Producer. Her recent successes included several reality crime-oriented TV shows, such as The First 48, which followed police detectives during the first forty-eight hours of homicide investigations and Dog, The Bounty Hunter, which followed a family of bounty hunters seeking out and capturing bail jumpers. She sat at her desk musing over a thorny problem. Her newest effort, just one season old, was a struggling show that followed U.S. Marshals engaged in a fugitive task force. Their efforts focused on the apprehension of wanted felons. Even in the endless climb over the bodies of those in front of her, competition within the executive culture of the A&E Network, it was agreed from its inception that Manhunter: Fugitive Task Force was a promising concept with both action and suspense. In translation to the visual media of television, however, the formula lacked something. The show was losing market share because it was losing audience. It had been her baby and she had vigorously gone to bat for its creation. Now those desirous to replace her in her position at the network were using the show's struggles against her. Her professional behind was on the line because of it. The phone on her desk buzzed and her executive assistant's voice came over the speaker, “Laura, John Clark, the Director of the U.S. Marshal Service is on line one for you. He says he has something you'll be interested in...”

Laura knew that the man on the other end of the phone had a vested interest in the show's existence. There had been a fair amount of collusion between the two of them during the series' initial development. The show brought the Marshals Service to the public's attention and being more visible publicly translated into greater ease getting the department's budget needs met during the fiscal debates in Congress. She picked up her phone, answering the call, “Director Clark, what a pleasure to hear from you! she said, hoping against hope that maybe the man did have something that might add the magic missing element to the show. The man on the other end of the line spoke excitedly for several moments as she felt her own excitement level rise. When he went silent she asked one simple question. “When can I meet her?”

Off the phone she called her assistant into the office. “Sophie,” she said, “We're going into top secret mode on the Manhunter program. Nothing, and I mean Nothing of what I am about to tell you can leak to any of the other network executives. Director Clark just gave us an early Christmas gift and it may just be enough to save the show. I need you to set up a discreet meeting with a woman named Meriwether DeSaix. You can find her contact information by contacting Miranda Priestly's office at Runway magazine. By the time the show starts filming its second season she will be a Marshal assigned to the fugitive task force we're following. She is beautiful enough that she's going to be featured in Runway magazine and her superiors in the Military gave her the nickname “the Bloodhound” because she never failed to bring back a fugitive she was sent after.”

Sophie stood there writing notes. “If she was so good in the Military, why the move to the Marshal's Service?” She asked, eye still focused on her pad.

Laura smiled an anticipatory shark’s smile. “With the way the political winds are blowing, that's the best part. She's gay and was forced to resign her commission because the Army found out. Director Clark told me that she was targeted by someone high up in government and the whole thing is about to blow up in the press. She doesn't know it yet but she's about to be famous and the new darling of the Gay Rights movement. I want her under contract for the show before that happens. We're going to make her a sympathetic hero and bring a whole new demographic of viewership of the show. Director Clark knows how good this will make the Marshal's Service look and he's on-board all the way. He'll see to it that our offer of being on the show is very attractive to her.” She turned in her seat, looking out her office window. “Set the meeting for as soon as possible. I'm anxious to meet the network's new star.”

The executive assistant finished scratching on her pad then turned smartly on her heels and strode back to her desk to make the necessary calls. “On it, Boss.” she called out over her shoulder.

*****

Meriwether DeSaix stretched luxuriously in the comfortable bed. She had always had a good internal clock and years in the Army had honed it to where she simply knew, within a few minutes, what time of day it was. She couldn't remember the last time she'd slept so late into the morning. She smiled into the empty room. As it was Monday morning and a work day, Emily had, of course, gone to her job at Runway as the sun rose. The British woman was receiving a new level of attention and respect from the formidable Miranda Priestly and was blossoming under the scrutiny as an orchid does under proper light and humidity.

As far as spending time in bed was concerned Meriwether hadn't in her memory spent as much time in bed as she had since she and Emily had returned to Emily's apartment Friday afternoon. She rose and covered herself with the rumpled sheet. She had no clothes other than the one's she'd worn on Friday, as her duffel bag containing her scant civilian possessions was still in a locker at the train station. Clothing had definitely been optional for the majority of the weekend and what little time had not been spent naked she had borrowed a long tee shirt from Emily. Later she would go forth and retrieve her bag and then settle into what she dearly hoped would become a daily domestic routine of living in Emily's company.

Her cell phone rang, the ring tone Roy Orbison's song Pretty Woman announcing that it was Emily calling. The ring tone had been set to the phone's memory just last night as a joke between them. Meriwether lazily reached out and answered, “Morning Red.”

Emily, on the other end of the call, couldn't help smiling at the endearment, but remembering the reason she called took up a professional tone. “Meriwether, I have received a call from the assistant of an Executive Producer named Laura Fleury at the Arts & Entertainment Network. She is asking for your contact information. Ms. Fleury apparently wishes to speak to you about appearing on one of their programs. May I give her your phone number?”

“An offer to be on a T.V. Show? Really?” DeSaix laughed. She listened to the silence on the other end of the line for a moment and stopped laughing as she realized that Emily was completely serious. “This isn't a joke is it?” she asked.

“No,” Emily answered. “Why on earth would I joke about such a wonderful opportunity?”

“Why would anybody want me on a T.V. Show? I'm no actress.” DeSaix said and then had a thought. “Miranda did this didn't she?” the ex-soldier asked.

“Well, I know that she made some calls on your behalf, but I don't believe any of them were to a television network,” Emily answered, now nervously playing with the telephone cord attached to the receiver. “Still,” she temporized, “it couldn't hurt to talk to the network, could it?”

DeSaix laughed. She knew Emily was concerned that she would return home to Louisiana making any kind of ongoing relationship between them extremely difficult at best. What Emily didn't understand was that other than the local cuisine and certain places in New Orleans there wasn't a whole lot about her native state that the Creole woman missed. “You're worried about me leaving, aren’t you Red?” She teased.

The stony silence on the other end of the phone was positively deafening.

Even with their short time together DeSaix could read Emily like no one else. She could see the pursed lips in an unconscious approximation of what Miranda Priestly would look like when annoyed. The woman from Louisiana took pity on the redhead from London on the other end of the call. “You don't need to worry about that Red,” she offered lightly. “I'll get a job in retail or as a bouncer at some bar before I leave you. Over the weekend you said you wanted this, wanted us. Now you're stuck with me. So go ahead and give 'em my phone number. Like you said, can't hurt to find out what it is they want.”

“Right,” Emily answered. “Well then...” she said stiffly. “...Love you.” she almost whispered the last two words.

The simple words staggered DeSaix, but her response flowed passed her lips without conscious thought or any effort at all on her part. “Love you too, Red. Come home soon.”

*****

Arabella Messalina Giovanni sauntered into her villa followed by several of the groundskeepers in her employ. Each man carried numerous packages, the results of the famous model's shopping expedition. She was immensely pleased with the progress she had made today. She had her Andy in residence and had managed to acquire quite a few fashionable, if casual clothes for her 'guest'. Nothing fancy, as far as things to wear, were required yet. It would likely be a month or more before Bella would allow Andy out of the villa. Bella wanted to be sure that Andy understood that Bella was her home now. That Bella was going to take care of her, provide all good things, satisfy every need. Andy would soon see that she would be the center of Bella's universe. And for such devotion and sacrifice, Andy would come to love Bella.

She stopped and spoke to her assistant Lucrezia who sat in the Library working on her computer answering her employer’s electronic correspondence. “So, is my Andy awake?” she asked.

Lucrezia stopped typing a response to a fan of the super-model. “She woke for a brief time. I spoke with her. She asked for her limbs to be returned to her.”

“And you said?” Bella asked pointedly.

“I said as you told me to say, Bella. That the limbs were being inspected for damage after she fainted at the luncheon,” the assistant replied sullenly.

“I don't know what you're upset about Lucrezia,” Bella said testily. “Andy is here as I said she would be. She will soon not want to be anywhere else!”

Lucrezia looked her employer in the eye. “Bella, you have taken her without her consent! Brought her miles from Rome! She has already asked for the soldier who is supposed to accompany her! What if you are wrong?! What if she values her freedom more than what it is you offer her?! If she should go to the authorities, you ...we...are guilty of kidnapping!”

“If you do not have the stomach to do as I ask, Lucrezia, you know where the door is,” the Diva said coldly. “I'm sure that someone would hire you, even after they call me for a reference.”

Lucrezia shook her head, her voice cracking and tears threatening. “I have served you for years, Bella. I'll not leave you now. Even if I don't agree with the course you've chosen. You are everything to me!” She replied.

“Good,” Bella said, her voice still cold. “You are a good assistant. It would be a shame to lose you.” She glanced at the woman, who sat stiffly before her laptop computer and Bella's demeanor softened a bit. “I want you with me Lucrezia. I value your service. But I will have this. Both for myself and for il mio picclo amore.” She reached up and caressed the locket she always wore at her throat when not modeling.

Lucrezia nodded her acceptance. “If she is not awake now, I would be very much surprised,” she offered cautiously.

Bella nodded a satisfied nod. “I will go and welcome Mia Andy to her new home,” she said moving off in the direction of the master bedroom.

*****

Richard Sachs had brought his best case of why it made sense for him to go back to Cincinnati and leave New York behind. He had crafted his words carefully as if he were speaking to a jury. He had all of his appeals in order. His logic was sound and he had his ducks in a row. Serena was a beautiful, vibrant, wealthy young woman who could win any partner she might desire, He, on the other hand was a nearly washed up, long-in-the-tooth, fifty-something attorney without much in the way of prospects or chance of financial gain. He sadly admitted that when the divorce was through he'd likely have to work into his mid-seventies before he could consider retirement just to support himself.

Serena was having none of it. She listened to his words. And then she cheated outrageously by crying. Richard had never been any good when any woman in his life had cried. And Serena seemed to be a pro at tears. She pleaded her case, passionately and with conviction, then her fiery Brazilian temperament took over as she continued explaining her position on the matter under discussion, clearly illustrating her points with exclamatory hand gestures. All the things he's said about himself, she insisted, were patently untrue. He was a sexy man of vast experience and a caring and considerate lover. Money was of no importance in matters of the heart and, if he wished it, she would abdicate her trust fund back to her brothers and sisters. That she would support him on her salary from Runway while he searched for employment. If he chose to go back to Cincinnati then she would give Miranda her notice first thing the morning and contact her realtor about getting her a place there to live. She made it quite clear that if she did not travel with him, she would certainly follow close on his heels. “As I told your ex, Richard Sachs, you are mine now and now that I have finally found the man of my dreams, I’ll fight to keep him.” she stated emphatically.

*****

Laura Fleury sat across her desk from the woman she hoped would save a failing television show and her flagging career. With what she knew of the woman from what the Director of the Marshals Service had told her on the telephone and sent over via fax, she certainly liked what she saw. The woman across from her was beautiful even without make-up. Exotic looking and butch. Laura could just count the lesbians lining up to watch the show if she could convince this woman to become a part of it. Then, there would be the curious audience that would come to the show after the story broke in the press about how DeSaix had been hounded from the Army by someone high up in government. Laura didn't know the details of that yet, but she knew from the Director of the Marshal Service that she needed the woman under contract quickly because the story was going to get out very soon and once that happened it couldn't be kept from the news outlets. Laura went into her quick 'elevator' pitch offer asking DeSaix to come try her hand at becoming the next reality T.V. Star.

Watching the woman on the other side of the desk, Laura was very aware that she was being sized up. “Begging your pardon, Ma'am,” DeSaix said politely in response to the offer. “I'm a bit confused. I haven't even applied to the Marshal's Service, much less gotten a job with them, so I'm not quite clear on why you're asking me to be on a T.V. Show about being a member of a fugitive task force.”

The Network Executive across from her smiled. “The Director of the Marshals Service himself brought you to my attention Meriwether,... may I call you Meriwether?” The woman asked. “He is already in possession of your military records regarding your service to your country as a Military Policeman...errr ...Policeperson. When I spoke with him on the telephone he said clearly that you were exactly the caliber of individual that his department wanted. If you want a job with the Marshals Service, it's yours. The paperwork confirming it is just a formality. If you're willing to be on the show, I can guarantee you'll be stationed right here in Manhattan, immediately joining the existing fugitive task force. You'll draw not only your Marshal's salary, but a generous stipend from the Network as well.”

DeSaix thought for a long minute. “You know, growing up in Louisiana, my Mama used to tell me that if something sounded too good to be true it usually was,” she said and then looked up, her eyes boring into the woman seated across from her. “I'm good at what I do because I see things that other people miss. What I see in you is you want something from me. You want it pretty damn bad too. I'll be honest with you; I want to stay here in New York. Got something important going on here. But I won't play the fool for anyone. Lay your cards on the table. Tell me exactly what it is that you want from me and I'll give you a straight yes or no. If I agree to what it is you want, you'll find I'm loyal. You'll be able to count on me all the way down to the ground.”

Laura nodded. “The show is in trouble. It lacks excitement. It doesn't have enough sizzle to sell it to the audience. I think you can be that sizzle.”

DeSaix shook her head. “You've got the wrong girl. I wouldn't do anything that would add 'sizzle' in that kind of situation. Going cowboy when working inside a squad gets people killed. I'm a team player inside a squad. My squad-mates can count on me to do it by the numbers, just as I count on them to do the same."

Laura wondered briefly just how far to go in her explanation. She decided to keep her ace up her sleeve and not mention the fact that a story centering around DeSaix would be breaking in the news services soon “Meriwether, I know why you resigned from the Army. Having an extremely capable gay woman on the show would be a strong step in the direction of adding the interest that would bring a larger audience.”

“What would my sexuality have to do with being on a T.V. show about chasing runners?” DeSaix asked pointedly, her demeanor indicating she didn't particularly like the idea.

“Meriwether, you haven't been watching T.V. for a while,” the woman from the world of television answered soothingly. “Lesbians are very in. You can be an icon for young gay women everywhere. A positive role model. Someone they will strive to be like. They will follow you into the military, into federal service. You can be an agent of change. Also, the fact that you are as attractive as you are – single, young gay women will flock to the show with dreams of dating you.”

Meriwether shook her head. “I don't think this is gonna work... For one thing, I'm not single.”

Laura smiled wickedly. “We'll that's the great thing about T.V., she replied. “The audience doesn't know any more than we choose to tell them...”

*****

Bella came to Andy's bedside and sat on the edge of the bed. She spoke softly to the apparently sleeping woman. “Mia Andy,” she said, “finally I have brought you home.”

Andy opened her eyes and looked at the woman she had thought had been kind and caring when they had talked together at the many different events over the course of the last several days. “May I please have my arm and my leg?” She asked.

Bella pouted prettily. “Must you have those awful ugly things?” she responded. “I had them taken so new ones could be fitted for you. Ones that look like flesh and bone. It will take a few days for them to arrive, but the best makers of such things in all Italy are building them for you even now!”

Andy looked at Bella incredulously. “Bella,” she asked. “What am I supposed to do in the mean time? Without my arm and leg I can't get around. Unless you happen to have a wheelchair handy.”

Bella pursed her lips and looked discontent. Then she smiled wickedly. “I could keep you here in my bed,” she declared. “I could bring you breakfast and lunch and dinner and keep you company here. Our little island from the world, just as Trinidad was an island in time for us. A few precious days that we spent getting to know each other. I was a fool then. When my photo shoot was over I thought you just another girl. One that I could walk away from and forget as I have all the others. But you, you're different Mia Andy. I cannot forget you. I need you here with me.”

Andy nodded. “Well,” she said softly, keeping her tone as reasonable as she could manage. “We can talk about that. But first I need my arm and my leg back. If you know anything about me then you'll know that there are things I'm going to want to do, need to do, for myself.”

Bella sighed an exasperated sigh. “Oh, very well,” she repined. “I’ll have them brought to you.. I will have the clothing I purchased for you today brought in as well and you can dress. It is lovely out on the piazza overlooking the sea tonight. We shall have a candle light dinner there and watch the sunrise together.” She rose prancingly from the bed. “We will have to see if you are still as good a dancer as I remember,” she said absently then she turned a smoking hot look on Andy where she lay. “Of course most of our tangos were not on the dance floor and certainly not for the eyes of others.”

“Tell me a little about our time on Trinidad,” Andy asked moving to sit up. Bella was right there, hands on, helping her upright.

“It was April of 2008,” Bella said dreamily. “We met walking on a beach near a cove where I was doing a shoot for Elle. You had taken a few days off after being on the island for a shoot with Runway. We talked, we laughed, and you came back to the cove and watched me work. We had dinner together that night...Do you remember any of this?” she asked gently.

Andy shook her head no and Bella nodded. “Do not fret about it Mia Andy,” she offered softly. “We will make new memories together,” and with a dramatic flourish Bella swept from the room.

Andy watched her go. She was even more disquiet about her situation now that she had spoken to Bella. Thing here were not as they seemed. She focused her thoughts on her time at Runway. When she had returned there after being wounded she had searched through anything she could find having to do with her time there. One of the things she had gotten access to through Emily's good offices where her employment records. She knew for a fact that she had not gone to work for Runway magazine until late May of 2008.


	33. Chapter 33

“Let me get this straight. You said “no” to becoming a U.S. Marshal and basically starring in a network reality show?” Emily said over the rim of the glass of white wine that Meriwether had waiting for her when she walked through her apartment door after work.

“Didn't say “no,” the Creole woman said sipping from her own glass. “Said I couldn't do what she was asking me to do.” 

“It's a reality show. Don't they just follow you around with a camera crew while you do the job?” Emily asked, seemingly confused. 

“Mainly,” Meriwether answered carefully and glanced away from where Emily sat. “She wanted me to be open about being gay on the air. Seems that having a somewhat attractive lesbian as part of the team is what she thinks can generate enough interest to bring in new viewership and save the show.”

Emily nearly choked on her wine. “Reasonably attractive,” she snorted. “You are not serious. You are the most beautiful woman I've ever met and I work with some of the most beautiful women in the world on a daily basis so I'm in a position to know.” She then noted the direction of Meriwether's gaze and looked deeply at the woman she loved. “Now that you’re not restrained by that stupid don't ask, don't tell thing you're not bashful about being gay, so that's not the whole reason you're not interested in taking this job. What aren't you telling me?” She asked a note of suspicion in her tone.

Meriwether looked back at the woman she now knew that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. “She wanted me to pretend to be single. She thinks that gay women would be lining up to watch the show because they'd be dreaming about dating me.”

Emily blinked, started to speak, stopped, blinked again and shook her head. “You're telling me that you turned down a job that would have you doing what you love and make you famous at the same time because you won't let them make people think that you're single?”

“Been waiting for you my whole life, Red,” Meriwether said softly, her tone full of conviction. “Now that I have you, I'm here, with you. No games, no playing pretend. It's you and me. If the show was really a “reality” show, it would allow me to be me. And I'm with someone that I care about and I'm not willing to hide that.”

Emily blinked again and then,very carefully placing her wine glass on the table at her side, she sprang. Meriwether suddenly found herself with a lap full of passionate redhead who seemed intent on kissing every square inch of her face.

Andy spent the few moments she had alone in the bedroom looking through the wide selection of fashionable clothing that had been purchased for her by Bella. Picking through the selections that the maids had placed within easy reach of the bed when they had brought it in, Andy noted that she didn't see anything that she particularly liked. She found it curious that Bella, as a woman steeped in fashion, and who claimed to know her so well, knew so little about her tastes. Andy was sure that any early conversations they might have engaged in when they first supposedly met would have revolved around what they had in common, which at that time would have been fashion. Sharing their personal tastes in that area seemed to her to be a given. This was just another piece of the disquieting puzzle that Andy was assembling about her situation.

Bella's assistant Lucrezia was the one to bring Andy her arm and her leg. This occurred within moments of Bella leaving the room, which meant that Andy now knew for a fact that she'd been lied to. Her artificial limbs couldn't be 'checked' for damage here, unless they had a prosthetic technician on the premises. Bella had said that new prosthetics were being built specifically for her, but without her exact measurements or her existing prosthetics as models to work from she didn't see how that was possible. 

Andy quickly realized that she needed a source of information inside Bella's household. She had already surmised that Lucrezia was uncomfortable with the questions she had been asking. She felt that deception didn't come naturally to the woman. Andy quickly decided to play on the other woman's discomfort and perhaps on her humanity. She pushed herself up in the bed and gave the Italian woman her best puppy dog eyes. “I don't suppose I could impose on you and ask for help getting my arm on? It's a bitch to do alone.”

“Of course I will help you,” Lucrezia answered placing the artificial leg against the foot board of the bed and moving to stand before Andy. You will have to tell me how to help though. I have never done this before.”

Andy smiled. “First I need to get out of this tee shirt,” she said using her remaining arm to strip off the garment. She watched as Lucrezia flushed. Embarrassed? Andy wondered,.Or something else? She moved in such a way as to show off her now naked breasts and watched Lucrezia's breath catch. Interesting she thought. Maybe there 's something here I can use. “The shoulder plate fits over my shoulder and my stump goes into socket in the upper part of the arm. “ She said, making her voice sound light, as if she didn't have a care in the world. “I can manage that part. If you will please snap the buckles closed on the webbing that will hold it in place when I have it in position?”

Lucrezia raised the artificial arm into place on Andy's shoulder and while Andy held it in place and inserted her stump into the socket of the mechanical arm, Bella's assistant adjusted the straps. Andy worked the mechanical hook at the end of the prosthetic open and closed several times. “So. How long have you been Bella's assistant?” Andy asked casually.

“I've been with Bella's for five years,” the Italian woman answered snapping the buckles on the webbing that held the prosthesis in place.

“I was a personal assistant too,” Andy offered, hoping to play on shared experience. “For Miranda Priestly, the Editor-in-Chief of Runway magazine. “ Andy chuckled sourly. “Of course at the moment, I don't remember much of that time.” she then continued going through the clothing that the maids had brought in. “By the way, could I have a phone please?” She asked. “I need to contact Scruggs or somebody in my chain of command. I need to know what my orders are. How long I'm on leave and when I'm expected to report back and such.”

Lucrezia looked positively uncomfortable. She swallowed softly and played with her hands. “The telephones here in the Villa are not working. A curse of being so high up the side of the hill and away from the town below. They will be fixed in the morning,” she said, turning and taking a step towards the door out to the hallway.

“What about your cell phone?” Andy said. “I may not remember much, but I've got a fair idea of what would have happened to me if I got caught anytime, anyplace without a working cell phone when I was working for Miranda.”

Lucrezia shook her head. “My cell phone is out of power. I will charge it. Perhaps in the morning you can make the calls you wish to.”

Andy nodded and smiled bitterly. “You know Lucrezia,” she said quietly, “if I didn't know better, I might think that you all were trying to keep me cut off from the rest of the world. ”

Without another word Lucrezia hurried from the room.

***** 

Ashlyn Miller, the one-time leader of the seventh grade circle of the popular click was perturbed. In the last week she'd seen her position at the pinnacle of Dalton's social hierarchy severely challenged. She felt betrayed by her one time best friend Carolyn Priestly and all because the stupid girl wouldn't follow Ashlyn's lead and turn on her identical twin sister when she should have. Now the leaders of the eight and ninth grade circles of the popular clique weren't returning her texts. She was keenly aware that the power she held in the student body at Dalton was under serious threat. The only way she could win her power back now was to utterly destroy those that had stood up to her. Caroline and Cassidy Priestly had to go, it was as simple as that.

Ashlyn had spent a good deal of time over the last several days feeling out which members of the popular clique could still be trusted. Knowing that she had a handful of loyal minions who understood the proper order of things and didn't believe in this new 'inclusive' nonsense, that the Priestly twins were now suddenly espousing, she set her devious mind to plotting. She needed something huge. Something that would get the twins thrown out of Dalton regardless of their mother's wealth, power and prestige. There were expellable offenses clearly defined in the student handbook. Selling drugs was one such offense as was bringing a weapon onto campus. 

The weapon idea had some potential, but she foresaw some problems with it. Planting a weapon or weapons to get them kicked out would be easier to get away with if they were boys. It would be more believable. If both twins were suddenly caught with weapons and both denied bringing them to school some adult might listen and believe them. 

Drugs were off the table for two reasons. First, Ashlyn would need to purchase enough drugs to frame the twins, and she simply didn't have the necessary funds. After getting ten days detention for telling the truth calling Cassidy and Roxanna “freak-show horror lezzy Dracula dykes”, her absentee father had cut her off from the allowance he usually sent her. Her mother was always too busy spending all of the alimony check her father sent each month to give her any more than what was absolutely necessary for her to barely get by. The second part of the problem would be that she would have to manage to plant the drugs and make it look like they were selling them. Then she'd have to find a way to anonymously inform the school administration that the twins were involved in such activity. The last time a student was caught selling drugs to the student body on any kind of large scale, the school disciplinarian, Mr. Lambert, had squeezed every student that was ever even suspected of taking drugs for weeks. By the end of his investigation he knew exactly which students had been customers of the expelled student. Each of those student's parents had been informed and each student had been placed on academic probation. 

No, Ashlyn thought, I need a new idea. Something really nasty and embarrassing , but something that won't cost me any cash.” She went and dug out her copy of the Dalton student handbook and began to study the section on school rules and discipline. Her calculating nature began to turn and she saw the seeds of an idea. Her twenty-year old unemployed college dropout slacker brother had a huge cache of pornography on his home computer. It would be simplicity itself to copy it and it would cost her nothing. If I can figure out a way to make it look like Caroline and Cassidy are selling porn to other students it would get them expelled and it would be so publicly embarrassing that their mother wouldn't dare fight it. She'd just ship them off to another school. Likely a convent school somewhere in Eastern Europe. One with high walls, freezing cold water baths and mean old nuns from the Middle Ages, she thought gleefully. 

***** 

Andy decided on her uniform as the proper dress for dinner. She donned it and carefully made sure both her Medal of Honor and the Decorazione per Eroico Servizio were fully visible, hung around her neck. As she made her way out of the bedroom she was met by a young woman she hadn't seen before. She raised an eyebrow curiously at the woman. 

“I am Amelie,” the woman said in a rich French accent. “I am to escort you out onto the Piazza where Bella awaits you."

Andy's eyes ran up and down the figure and she noted the flash of the butt of an automatic pistol in a shoulder holster under the blazer the woman wore. “You're packing a pistol,” Andy said.

Amelie nodded. “I am Bella's personal security,” she offered. “I am also here for your security. Bella is very concerned for your safety.”

Andy nodded. As they walked through the house she remarked, “well, Amelie, I'd feel a lot safer if Corporal Scruggs was here. He's under orders from the U.S. Army to be my escort and security. Any idea of when I'll be seeing him?”

“The big man?” the French woman asked. “He is very nice. I met him in a bookstore several days ago and we talked for a little while.” Her demeanor became more reserved as she continued to speak. “When you became ill at the luncheon, he also became ill. Bella left so quickly to bring you back here so she could take care of you that I was left behind, stranded in Rome without a way to get back. Everyone at the luncheon was very concerned for the big man. Both town doctors were with him. They finally moved him to the Mayor's house. I stayed close by in the street long enough to make sure that Corporal Scruggs was going to be alright, then I made my way back here by taxi. As ill as he was, I don't know when he will be able to come and visit. Perhaps when you feel better Bella will take you back to Rome to see him.”

Andy's mind went into double-time as she processed the information, Scruggs sick at lunch too? Andy thought. That boy could eat an assault rifle, ammo and all, and it wouldn't make him sick. She glanced towards the French doors that she assumed lead out to where she would again engage with Bella. The nausea, the hungover feeling and loss of short-term memory tickled at her consciousness. She paused for a moment, her mind still rapidly turning. She had been aware of the realities of dating in the world she lived in. Rohypnol had been dropped into women's drinks at bars that students frequented when she was at Northwestern University. They woke up the next morning with little memory of exactly what had happened. She realized that she and Scruggs both had been drugged. “You just indicated that we weren't in Rome,” Andy said, her heart pounding and trying not to show her rising panic. “If we're not in Rome anymore, just where the hell are we?” She asked tightly.

“Didn't Bella tell you?” The woman asked innocently. “She has brought you to her pleasure Villa in Capri. It is a magnificent house and I'm sure you'll enjoy your stay here. Now come, we should hurry. Bella does not like to be kept waiting.”

***** 

It was immediately evident to Andy that her 'hostess' Bella Giovanni was less than pleased when Corporal Sachs stepped out into the candle and torch lit piazza in the dress uniform that she had worn to the luncheon earlier in the day. The Italian model's eyes went cool and then Andy watched the woman catch herself and become something else. Something that Andy hadn't seen before. During their brief acquaintance Andy had encountered a Bella who was sympathetic of her plight. One that was supportive of her as she struggled to keep up with the over-full schedule required of her as All of Rome and the surrounding towns rushed to honor her. She had even encountered an earnest and vulnerable Bella that had confessed not only love but also infidelity in the nave of the Trinita dei Monti church. The Bella she now saw exuded raw sexuality. Her stance, movements, body language, the change in the timbre of her voice, everything was geared to arouse and affect the people around her. Andy was caught off guard for a moment, but only for a moment. As Bella moved to air kiss both of Andy's cheeks Andy played her opening gambit. “Bella, I need access to a telephone and your assistant tells me that there isn't one available. I find that difficult to believe. An important woman like you, here and cut off from the world outside?”

Bella frowned and running a hand down Andy's back gently guided her to the linen draped, china and crystal laden dinner table. “I am afraid that she's correct Mia Andy,” Bella said standing by her chair and apparently waiting for Andy to assist her into it as a date might.

Andy, still intent on playing the lousy cards she'd been dealt, pulled the chair out for the beautiful Italian woman and pushed it back in once the woman was seated. “Well then, after dinner someone can drive me down into the town. I'm sure that I'll be able to make a call from there.”

Bella shook her head, the smile on her face not reaching her eyes. “The road down the hill is treacherous in the dark, Mia Andy,” she offered sweetly, reaching out with her wine glass apparently so that Andy could pour for them both. 

Andy intuited that Bella was expecting Andy to play the 'butch'. It was another strong clue that the woman across from her really knew very little about her, and Andy's patience with this situation and the need to deal with the ingrained fear she was feeling was making her feel positively snappish. “What's really going on here Bella?” She asked bluntly as she poured the woman wine. “The Army doesn't leave wounded in the field. Period. End of line. If I passed out at a luncheon I should be flat on my back in a military hospital. Especially given the fact that I was so badly injured in combat. Injuries that included head trauma and possible brain involvement. Now I hear that Scruggs got sick too.”

“That silly man is of no consequence,” Bella said lightly, but Andy could see that the woman was under stress. “All that is important is that you are here with me now. In our home where I will care for your every need. You will want for nothing, Mia Andy. I will love you and give you a beautiful life.”

“Bella,” Andy said tightly, “I am an active member of the United States Military. I am on a mission for my government, which means I am under orders. I need to make sure that my chain of command knows where I am. If I don't, I'll get in trouble for being absent without leave.”

Bella shook her head. “You need not worry about that anymore Mia Andy,” she said softly. “ They will not find you here. I have taken care of everything. You need not dance to the silly demands of your Army anymore. My government will protect us and keep you safe here with me. From now on your life will be one long exercise in leisurely pleasure.”

Andy, mouth agape, stared dumfounded across the table. “Lady,” she said softly, "you're nuts.” Andy rose from her chair her anger surging within her. “You've been lying to me from the start! You don't know me! You don't know a damned thing about me! The clothes you got are all wrong, the fact that you said we met while I was on a photo-shoot for Runway a month before I ever went to work there! I don't know what game it is you're playing but this is bordering on kidnapping. I want a damn phone. I want it now! If you don't have one, get me a car or a cab and I'll go down to the town!”

Bella's face morphed into an angry mask. “NO!”: she shouted. “You will stay here with me! You will love me! We will be a family!” She insisted stridently.

“Are you out of your freaking mind?!” Andy replied hotly. “I'm an American citizen, here by the invitation of your government. Somehow I don't think they'll take all that kindly to you holding me against my will.”

Bella smiled a wicked smile. “Oh Mia Andy, “ she almost whispered. “You do not see how it is. I know things about many of the wives of high officials in the government of my country. Things that would ruin them. I control them and they, in turn, will control their husbands. You are here with me now. In a little while you will understand just how pleasant that is and you will never want to leave. It will all be perfect when il mio picclo amore comes home from his service to his country. Then the three of us will be happy!”

“Comes home from...? Bella, what the hell are you talking about?!” Andy sputtered.

Bella rose from the table. “He met you, you know.” she replied softly. “The day before you gave all to save him and the others. My little brother. The only member of my family who will still speak to me. The others' shun me as they do him. Me because I am a lover of women and he because he is a lover of men!” Bella stalked towards the doors to the Villa, her body language conveying her anger. Her next pronouncement was said as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world. “I will give you some time to calm down Mia Andy. I will go and change into something more comfortable and I will await you in our bedroom. You will come to me in fifteen minutes.”

“And if I don't?” Andy challenged

“ If you do not come,” Bella said, her voice airy and light, as if she didn't have a care in the world. “I will send Amelie and some of the groundskeepers to bring you!” Bella turned dramatically and strode through the doors and into the villa.

***** 

Dinner on the Piazza overlooking the nighttime Mediterranean lapping softly against the cliff face the villa sat on the edge of might have been pleasant if Andy hadn't now known for a fact that she was some crazy woman's prisoner. 

Panicked she looked off the edge of the Piazza overlooking a narrow yard running along the edge of the cliff that dropped off to the sea below. Things couldn't possibly be more out of whack. Bella seemed to think that Andy was going to stay here and play along with whatever this was that Bella was doing. Now the Italian beauty had retired to 'slip into something more comfortable'. That was code for seduction wasn't it? This beautiful lunatic wanted to sleep with her. With Andy the monster, with her plastic and metal parts. She closed her eyes and shook for a moment. There was so much wrong with this whole situation that she could hardly process it all. As much as she had wanted and needed the comforting touch of another human being she knew in her heart that the Italian model wasn't the one, never had been the one and never would be. In a lighting flash of memory behind her eyes, another piece of the blank gray monolith that was her memory of the last three years, fell away. She was looking down into a jewelry case in an upscale store. She was pointing out a pair of wedding rings and she turned her head and looked into the most amazing blue eyes. Miranda's eyes. Miranda smiling and laughing, pointing with one well manicured finger indicating another set of rings in the case. She opened her eyes and found herself clutching the two rings that rode on her dog tag chain. She needed to go home. She needed to see Miranda. She needed to go now.

Having been outside only after dark, her knowledge of the Villa grounds was virtually nonexistent. All she could make out were small islands of light where accent lighting dimly burned poorly illuminating this or that point of interest in the garden between her and the edge of the cliff. Dark shapes of vegetation rose here and there in what in the light of day were likely formal flowerbeds. She had seen a few examples of these hill town villas while her heroism was being celebrated by the Italian people. If this one was like the others she had visited then she had to assume that there was a wall on the perimeter except on the cliff side and on that side she knew that it was approximately three hundred feet to the rocks and surf below. 

The piazza faced the back of the house overlooking the ocean. It was approximately a fifteen-foot drop from the floor of the piazza down to a stone paved walkway. Andy quickly moved to the edge of the Piazza closest to a side of the house. She stepped to the railing and threw her good leg over. She knew the fall would hurt, but it wouldn't kill her. She had fallen twice as far during basic training when she had lost her hold while climbing an obstacle on the obstacle course. Her DI (drill instructor) had asked if she needed a medic. She had pulled herself up, refused the offer, and with every muscle in her body hurting, she had again climbed the obstacle and finished the course. Her DI had treated her differently after that. He'd treated her as a soldier rather than as a worthless recruit.

She took a deep breath and she jumped. She hit the ground on her feet and felt the jolt up through her artificial leg. There was a snapping sound as she landed. As she began to move along the back wall of the house, the knee of her prosthesis started making a grinding noise it hadn't made before. Andy quickly realized that it was malfunctioning, likely from being damaged when she hit the ground. It wouldn't move through its proper range of motion and it would not straighten fully. In this condition it was going to slow her down as she attempted her escape from the Villa's grounds. She stumbled along the back of the Villa and around to the side yard. Keeping the cliff and the sea at her back she figured that she was likely moving in the right direction to get to the outer wall of the property. Once beyond the wall she could figure out which way was downhill and then find the town. Then, somehow she'd get in touch with Scruggs. She owed it to him to tell him that she was going AWOL (Absent Without Leave) again. To tell him it wasn't his fault and that he could tell the Army that. She needed to tell him that she was going home to Miranda and her girls. 

***** 

The apartment buzzer rang while Meriwether was in the shower. “I'll get it,” Emily said as she headed for the door. Opening it she found a sharply dressed attractive woman. 

The woman smiled. “Is Meriwether here?” she asked politely.

The green-eyed monster roiled in Emily. “Whom may I say is calling?” she asked, all false good cheer and welcome.

“My name is Laura Fleury,” the woman answered. “You must be Emily,” she continued offering her hand. “Actually I’m very glad you're here. I'm going to need to make my pitch to you too.”

“What kind of pitch?” The English woman asked.

Laura looked at the redhead. “How much did Meriwether tell you about our meeting?” She asked.

“That you wanted her to be in your show on the telly. And that you wanted her to pretend to be single, because you thought it would bring a larger audience of lesbian women to the show,” Emily answered, her voice tinged with frost.

Laura nodded. “That was the original plan, but I've since found it was a lousy one. I was running with a demographic survey that suggests the programing interests of gay audiences. I, like an idiot, took the numbers one of my subordinates gave me. An intern at that. When I went back to my office and looked at the report I discovered that they had quoted the statistics concerning gay males. Lesbian women would much prefer to see an ongoing committed relationship.” She looked Emily up and down. “And the audience is going to just eat you two up!” 

***** 

Ashlyn Miller watched the members of the Nerd Brigade at the table the group claimed in the Dalton lunchroom. She had consulted with her cohorts in the popular clique and determined that Kevin Williams was one of the best hackers among the Nerds.

She sat with her handful of loyal minions “It's simple,” she said. “and all we need do is spread a few rumors, plant some stashes of printed out porn and convince geek boy over there,” she said nodding to where Kevin now sat, “to hack into the twin bitches' home computer and download the files that will cook their goose. It's up to you, Shelly, to convince him to do it for us.” 

Shelly, a pretty seventh grader was new to Ashlyn's circle and desperately wanted to stay in it. She firmly believed that Ashlyn would be successful in again rising to the pinnacle of the Dalton social hierarchy and she didn't want to cross the girl and spoil her own chances to be part of the popular crowd. She gazed at Ashlyn. “And just how am I supposed to do that?” she asked.

“I don't care if you have to do it on your knees in a school stairwell five times a day between classes,” Ashlyn said coldly. “Just get that geek to hack into the twin's computer and plant the evidence I want planted.”

***** 

The Starbucks not far from Dalton was virtually a daily stop on Roxanna's way home from school. She was standing in line waiting to place her order when what she first thought was one of the Goth Posers from Dalton got in line behind her. It wasn't until the girl spoke that Roxanna recognized Tara Flynn, the nominal leader of the eight grade circle of the popular clique. “I need to talk to you,” the girl said quietly, looking carefully around for anyone from Dalton that might be within ear shot.

Roxanna took a step forward as the line moved. “So, talk,” she answered.

“You need to go to Mr. Lambert's office early tomorrow morning. Before the first bell,” the popular young woman said cryptically.

Roxanna glanced back at the girl briefly and realized that the girl didn't want anybody to know they were speaking. She knew that the popular crowd were often trouble for the geeks and the nerds but somehow she felt that the girl behind her in line was both serious and in earnest in her intentions. “Okay, I might be able to manage that.” she answered softly. “But it would help if I knew why.

Tara nodded, her eyes still searching the cafe for anyone that might be taking notice of her speaking with Roxanna. “Kevin Williams will meet you there. There are some people that want to get Caroline and Cassidy Priestly kicked out of Dalton. They've asked him to help them do it. He's going to Mr. Lambert tomorrow with a plan to stop them but he says he could use your help.”

“And why are you telling me this instead of him telling me it?” Roxanna asked softly, keeping her eyes forward now so as not to give the conversation they were having away.

“He couldn't take the chance of being seen talking to you. The people that want to get the twins in trouble will be keeping an eye on him. I'm having a lot of trouble in in my computer science class and he tutors me in that subject. He asked me to come and tell you because nobody is likely watching me. I mean, they'd think we'd never talk.” The girl behind Roxanna said softly.

Roxanna nodded briefly. “You're doing it because Kevin, one of the Nerd Brigade, asked you to?” She asked, the story she was being told still seeming to have a hole in it.

Tara nodded. “I....” she started and then paused. “I like him. I like him a lot. And if you and Cassidy and Caroline get this thing you're doing with being more inclusive working, maybe he could ask me out and maybe I could say yes.”

Roxanna nodded. “I'll be in Mr. Lamberts' office tomorrow morning. If this goes down like you say it's going to, I'll kick him in the fanny until he does ask you out.”

Tara nodded. “Maybe....maybe you and I could hang out sometime. Maybe you and Cassidy and Kevin and I could even double date!”

Roxanna smiled. “Maybe we could at that.” she answered, arriving at the counter. Venti, drip, dark-roast, room for cream and whatever my friend behind me is having please,” she said to the Barista.”

***** 

The morning at Runway had been stressful. With what was perceived of as her ousting of Irv , several board members had wandered in during the morning to offer their congratulations. It made it impossible for Miranda to get anything accomplished. Finally giving up, she decided to work from home. She arrived shortly after the time her girls would've normally arrived at home entering the house through the front door she headed for the kitchen and got herself something to drink then she retired her study. She found a young woman she didn't recognize seated at her desk working on a laptop computer. She noted that a cable plugged into the back of her computer ran loosely from across the desk and plugged into the body of the laptop. The young woman was concentrating so intently on the screen before her that she did not notice Miranda's arrival. The individual before her was dressed in Gothic fashion and Miranda, surprised at the vision before her, took a moment to study the look of the aesthetic on the girl. “What are you doing in my home,” she demanded using her chilling quiet Runway voice. “Beyond that, what are you doing at my desk, in my private study?”

The girl's head snapped up and her eyes went wide. “Ms. Priestly,” she gasped. “I'm sorry! Cassidy said it'd be all right. It was the best place to hook into the computer network!”

Miranda had become computer savvy enough over her many years in the corporate world to know that most laptops today had wireless capability and that the entire townhouse was wired with wireless routers. “Why do you need to be plugged in?” She demanded, advancing on the desk and reaching for her cell phone to call 9-1-1.

“Somebody is trying to ruin Cassidy and Caroline at Dalton!” The girl said rapidly. “I'm here helping stop it from happening!”

Miranda froze in her tracks, one digit of the call to the police yet undialed. “Explain yourself,” she demanded.

“I'm Roxy...Roxanna,” the girl stammered nervously as her eyes darted back and forth between what was on the computer screen and Miranda's cold eyes. “There are some students at Dalton that want Cassidy and Caroline thrown out. They've arranged to frame your daughters' for peddling porn at school. They are, at this moment, hacking your system so they can plant a ton of porn on the hard-drive of the computer that Cassidy and Caroline use. That way, when the accusations against them are made, you'd find it and there would be evidence to back up the accusations.”

Attacks on my daughters are simply not permissible Miranda thought to herself. “And what precisely are you doing?” She asked, moving still closer to the desk and her finger still poised over the 'one' button on her telephone.

“Rerouting the stream of data that they are trying to send to the computer upstairs.” the girl answered.

“Rerouting it? Rerouting it where?” Miranda asked, now perplexed by the situation that was unfolding.

“To Mr. Lambert's office computer at Dalton. That's where he asked us to send it when we all decided what to do about this plot against your daughters. 

Now Miranda was truly confused. “The school's Disciplinarian is involved in this?” she asked wondering when she had arrived in Wonderland. 

The girl behind her desk nodded vigorously. “Yes Ma'am,” she answered. “The kids that want to hurt Cass and Caroline got another computer hacker to help them. The hacker, a kid named Kevin, approached me about the plot when the kids that are doing this tried to convince him to help them. We went to Mr. Lambert together. Mr. Lambert said that it was important to catch them red-handed. Kevin is a computer whiz and hacking your system normally wouldn't be any problem for him.” the girl smiled, “but he knew I'd eat his lunch if he tried anything against Cass and I found out about it. He knew I'd recognize his footprints in the system and he knew I get into his system and do something really nasty to repay him.”

“The head of my IT department set up my home network. I was told that it was secure and I didn't need to be worried about anyone hacking into it.” Miranda said softly, moving around the desk and standing next to the computer screen.

Roxanna nodded. “Your security isn't bad as far as it goes. You'd be safe if your system didn't have a Trojan virus on-board which has created a backdoor. The dynamic IP address is a pretty good defense,” the girl said absently as she concentrated on her computer screen. “It's easier to hack a company or organization that has a static IP address. Most home networks change their IP address all the time. A moving target is harder to hit. The virus was sent in an e-mail. Unfortunately once the Trojan was on-board your computer, it called the computer that sent it. Now that computer has a watch on your home network. It can follow the dynamic IP when it changes. That lets them get in whenever they want to. I'm here to monitor what's happening. If anything goes anyway other than what we discussed with Mr. Lambert, like if they start looking at you're e-mail or anything other than what we think is going to happen, I'm supposed to pull the plug and shut the system down.”

What is it you are expecting?” Miranda asked now fascinated with intrigue and impressed with the young woman at the computer.

“Them uploading a large amount of porn to Cass and Caroline's computer. They've already set it up so it will look like they've been selling it at school.”

“And you say Mr. Lambert knows about this?” Miranda asked.

“Yes Ma'am,” the Goth Girl answered her fingers now flying across the keys. “You can call his office and confirm that. He's there right now as are Cass and Caroline. Being with him while this is happening sort of gives them an air tight alibi.” Roxy looked up nervously at the formidable women beside her. “I hope it's okay I'm here, Ms. Priestly. I...I care about Cass. I wanted to help when we heard about this.”

Miranda nodded. “You've certainly made a positive first impression, Roxanna. When you finish what you are doing why don't you call your mother and ask if you may stay for dinner with Cassidy and Caroline. In the meantime, if you will excuse me, I think I will call Mr. Lambert and ask him to explain just what is going on here.

***** 

Andy continued to move along the side of the villa when she heard a whispered noise from somewhere immediately above her. “Corporal Sachs,” a voice she recognized as Lucrezia's said. Then something white and fluttery fell past where she hid in the shadows and hit the stone paved path with a metallic clink not too far from her feet.

“Follow this wall to the front corner of the house, then with your back to it draw a straight line in the direction the corner points.” Lucrezia's disembodied voice from above whispered. “Follow that line. When you come to the outer wall you will find an iron gardener's gate. The key to that gate is tied to the handkerchief on the ground. The gate leads to the road. The road down the hill and to the town below. Hurry! Bella will realize you are gone soon. She will call out the groundskeepers and their dogs!”

Andy snatched up the white handkerchief and saw that there was indeed an old-fashioned cast iron key tied to one corner of it. As Andy continued along the sidewall of the villa she heard a window above and behind her close.

***** 

Scruggs arrived in Capri about midnight. It had taken him longer to get there than he would have liked, but without an international driving permit and no time to get one he'd had to rely on available public transportation. The train from Rome to Naples, then a taxi to the port, and a ferry from there to the island. Once he'd arrived he started working to solve the problems he faced. He knew where the Villa was and had a general idea of its size, but no clue as to the layout or the compliment of potential opposition he might face when he penetrated the grounds and went looking for Sachs. He hailed a cab, discovered to his delight that the cabbie knew some English, and gave the driver the address.

***** 

Andy made her way across the dark grounds of the villa as quickly as she could with her malfunctioning artificial leg. It would neither move as it was supposed to nor would it lock briefly in the straight leg position as it was designed to do, so just when she would need to hold her weight on the prosthesis so she could step forward with the other leg, the knee of the device would slip and bend causing Andy to fall painfully to the ground several times as she made her way across the lawn. Finally she found the outer wall surrounding the villa and looking back over her shoulder she could see the corner of the house. By her estimation, if what Lucrezia had told her was true, she was approximately twenty yards from where the gate leading to the road would be.

It was then that she heard the barking of dogs in the near distance and the voices of men getting organized for a search of the grounds. Her time was running out. She made all possible speed toward where she believed the gate to be.

***** 

The call from General Keiffer, one of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, had disquieted the President. Corporal Andy Sachs, decorated hero and Italy's (and most of Europe's for that matter,) darling, had disappeared while on assignment just outside of Rome. At this moment in time it wasn't clear whether the young soldier had gone AWOL or something more sinister was occurring. What President Obama did know was that the Italian Government was anxious to keep the hero's disappearance quiet for the moment, fearing that their people might riot in the streets if they found out that the Government officials responsible had lost the woman. The President had that directly from the American Ambassador to Italy and in just a few minutes time he'd be speaking directly with the Italian Prime Minister. General Keiffer had also told him that the Army had lost track of the single escort remaining in Sachs' detail when Corporal Scruggs had gone out to search for the missing soldier. The President put his head in his hands. Congress he could handle. Special interest groups? No problem. The press? Child's play. Michelle? That was a different story all together. His wife had taken a special interest in this young wounded soldier. She had questioned him extensively before the young soldier had been sent to Italy. Michelle had made requests about both assuring the young woman's safety and regarding her termination of service, insisting that it occur as soon as Corporal Sachs stepped foot again on U.S. soil. Michelle had acted as a buffer when Miranda Priestly had somehow put the mission to Italy at risk and kept her husband from knowing more than he needed to know, which a lot of the time, he was now discovering, was a blessing to a sitting President. Now he had to tell his wife that after some bone-headed fiasco that forced Sachs' other escort to be recalled to the U.S. and resign her commission, the U.S. Military had managed to lose one Andy Sachs. He had a sneaking suspicion that the other escort's resignation from the Army was going to have to do with the Don't Ask, Don't Tell policy, which Michelle had also been all over him about. He sighed softly knowing that he'd likely be sleeping on the couch tonight if he didn't fix this mess that had been dumped into his lap immediately.

***** 

The key fit the lock in the rusty cast iron gate and Andy struggled with it, trying to get it to turn and open the lock. The sound of men and dogs was getting closer. She could hear them shouting to one another coordinating the search. She also heard the distinctive voice of the French woman who had introduced herself as Amelie. Amelie could pose a serious problem. To Andy's certain knowledge the woman was armed with an automatic pistol. Andy didn't what to have to try and face the woman down, especially when she couldn't trust her artificial leg to hold her up long enough to try some of the hand-to-hand techniques for disarming an opponent she'd been taught in basic training. Finally the key turned and she swung the gate open. Stepping through she closed it behind her and locked it from the outside. Glancing left and right she realized quickly that she was on a short access road and at it's end would be the road that would lead down to the town of Capri.

Hurrying as best she could, considering she was now practically dragging her artificial leg behind her she made her way to the edge of the road just in time to see what were apparently two teenagers out for a ride on a Vespa motor-scooter. Andy stepped into the road and flagged the couple down.

The young man driving the scooter stopped a few feet in front of where Andy stood and killed the engine. He spoke rapidly in what sounded to Andy like annoyed Italian. Andy, not speaking more than a few words of the language that she had picked up since arriving in the country didn't understand a single word that he'd said. She held out her open hand. “Do you speak any English?” She implored, her voice cracking with the strain she was under. At any moment those people looking for her on Bella's property could turn up and take her back there. 

The boy shook his head no, his demeanor aggravated. It seemed evident to Andy that he was likely on a date with the young woman on the back of the scooter. She lowered her hand and looked at the girl. “Please,” she said, “I need help...” 

The girl on the back of the scooter was staring at Andy, and then her eyes went wide. As the boy started to motion Andy to get out of the road and let them pass, the girl started speaking rapidly in Italian. The boy stopped and turned and looked at the speaking girl. Then he turned around and looked at Andy. Stepping closer to her he pointed to her mechanical hook hand. “Sachs! White Hat!” he said badly in heavily accented English. “John Wayne!”

Andy sagged, hearing the barking of dogs getting closer. Her eyes went back down the access road she had come from. She figured that her pursuers must be approaching the gate. Would they have a key? She wondered. Would they follow her out her and force her back in to that crazy woman's clutches? “I need to get to Capri!” She said hurriedly to the boy. “

“Si!” The boy answered smiling and looking a little awestruck, “Capri!” He pointed down the road the direction from which he had come.

Andy shook her head violently. “No, I need to get to Capri,” she said, motioning to the scooter. 

The girl, still wide-eyed, nodded her sudden understanding and slid off the back of the scooter. She spoke to the boy rapidly and taking Andy by her real arm, guided her onto the back of the scooter. The boy took his place in front of Andy and started the scooter's engine.

The boy and the girl spoke to each other rapidly for a moment and then the girl leaned in and air kissed both of Andy's cheeks. 

“What about you?” Andy asked, touching the girl on the shoulder.

The girl thought for a moment and then smiled. She pointed down the road the way they had come and made a noise like the scooter. She used her hand to gesture the scooter going down the road. She then flashed her fingers on both hands and touched Andy on the shoulder and pantomimed getting off the scooter. She flashed her fingers on both hands again and touched her chest and pantomimed getting onto the scooter.

Andy nodded her understanding. “I'll be in Capri in ten minutes and he'll be back for you in twenty! She smiled and took the girl's hand. “Grazie! Grazie!” Andy said earnestly, kissing the appendage.

The girl spoke to the boy briefly and suddenly the scooter was in motion. Andy tightly wrapped both her real and her prosthetic arms around the boy’s middle as he turned the scooter around and race down the dark twisting and turning road.

***** 

Bella was furious. Because she was trying very hard to be considerate of 'her' Andy's feelings and also allow for the fact that the woman had been injured and lost her memory she had waited an additional five minutes beyond the fifteen she had given the woman to come to bed. Ten minutes ago she had dispatched Amelie to escort the recalcitrant woman to the bed they would share from now on. Two minutes ago Amelie had informed her that 'her' Andy wasn't anywhere to be found within the villa. She had managed to keep her temper long enough to direct Amelia to quickly plan a search of the grounds. She summoned Lucrezia and instructed her to act as Amelie's translator and to turn out the groundskeepers and their dogs to accomplish the search. With a huge effort of self-control, she made her way to a guest bedroom on the same floor. There, she screamed herself hoarse, threw every breakable object in the room and destroyed several of the smaller pieces of furniture. When the tantrum had run it's course she calmed and thought for a moment. No one had left by the front gate. The only other ways off the property were to throw ones' self from the cliff into the sea or the Gardener's gate. The Gardner’s gate required a key, which there was only one of. Someone in her household had betrayed her and helped 'her' Andy escape. And Bella had a pretty good idea of who that person was.

***** 

Scruggs almost missed it, but after being in the Army for as long as he had he'd developed something like radar for someone in his branch of the military's uniform. As the taxi was going up the hill, he saw someone in class “A” “dress blues” uniform on the back of a scooter barreling down the hill. Scruggs was willing to bet everything he had ever had that the person on the back of that two-wheeled death trap was one Corporal Andy Sachs. Fortunately for Scruggs, he had found a taxi driver that had enough English that they could communicate after a fashion. “Turn this thing around and follow that scooter!” He shouted at the driver. 

The cabbie, knowing he had an American tourist in his car was figuring on a big fat tip if he kept his fare happy. Hearing the instructions and knowing from previously ferrying Americans how impatient they could be, he turned the wheel of the cab hard and hit the brakes just enough to fish-tale the taxi into a one hundred and eighty degree turn and raced after the fleeing scooter.

***** 

Andy hadn't recognized the vehicle that passed them as a cab. What she saw was a car going one direction, passing them and then suddenly and violently spinning around to follow them. She was already in a fox and hound mindset and her brain screamed at her that she was the fox and the car following them was full of hounds that would do terrible things to her if they caught her. She knew another Italian word. She had no idea if she was using it correctly but she hoped it would convey her message as she started screaming “Avanti! Avanti!” into the boy's ear. Glancing over his shoulder, the boy saw the taxi gaining on them. His head snapped forward and he floored the scooter.

The race down the hill was the stuff of a bad action movie. The scooter zigzagged madly as the boy attempted to keep the cabbie from getting around them. The snake back curves of the road were better suited to the scooter than to the larger vehicle, so the boy managed to keep ahead of the cab, but once at the bottom of the hill the road straightened as it lead towards the town of Capri. On the straightaway the larger engine of the taxi gave it clear advantage and the cabbie's many years of experience allowed him the skill to use the wider and nearly empty road to get up beside the scooter. Scruggs rolled down the window and yelled “Sachs! It's me!”

Hearing Scrugg's voice and seeing him waving at her frantically from the back of a cab that she had been convinced was full of men that were going to drag her back to Bella kicking and screaming nearly made Andy pass out in relief. She squeezed the boy driving the scooter around the middle to get his attention and when she had it she motioned to the man in the back of the cab. “John Wayne!” She shouted in the boy's ear. “White hat!” he's one of the good-guys!” The boy nodded his understanding and the scooter started slowing down. In a moment, the cab pulled off the road to stop beside the two people on the Vespa.

Scruggs stepped out of the back of the Cab rising to his full massive size. “Christ, Sachs!” He bellowed. “Give me a heart attack why don't you. First you disappear on me and when I do find you, you try to get us both killed driving a hundred miles an hour down a roller-coaster of a road!” He stepped over to her and unceremoniously pulled her up off the scooter into a huge bear hug. “I'm so glad I found you! Are you alright?!”

Andy was so relieved to be with Scruggs again that she was weeping. He was here and he was going to keep her safe. He was going to keep the crazy woman away. “Scruggs,” she said close to his ear. “I need to get the hell away from here. That Bella is just plain nuts!”

Scruggs nodded. “We’ll take the cab back to the port. We can be on a ferry back to Naples before dawn and from Naples we can take the train back to Rome,” Scruggs replied.

Andy swallowed hard and then nervously wet her lips with her tongue. It would be easier to do this on the phone, she thought, but I owe him more than that. She raised her head and met his eyes. “I'm not going back Scruggs. I've got to go home. I've remembered something important and I need to go and find out what it means.”

“You go home now, you'll be AWOL,” Scruggs answered softly, shaking his head. “You'll be damn likely to have the Army all up in your business again.”

“Scruggs,” Andy replied, “I don't have the last three years of my life, but now I'm pretty sure I was with somebody. I think it might have been something really important to both of us. I know the Army wants me here, but I need to do this for myself. I need to know who I am Scruggs. And I have a very strong feeling that the last eighteen months of my life were terribly important to whom I'm supposed to be now. 

“It's that Priestly woman isn't it? The one that went to the hospital in Germany to see you,” Scruggs asked, opening the back door of the taxi for Andy.

Andy nodded as she slid into the back of the cab and Scruggs followed.. “I think so. I think there was something there.” Her hand pulled the chain around her neck out of the collar and allowed the rings on the chain to hang down over her two metals. “I think one of these was hers. I have to go and ask if it was. I have to know what was between us. I have a hole in me Scruggs. It's not the missing arm or leg or even PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder). There's a piece of my soul missing. It's like a huge hole inside of me. I need to go home and figure out if Miranda is what fills that void. “

Scruggs nodded. “Well, like the LT (lieutenant) would say, I guess you're going to do what you've gotta do and I'm going to do what I've gotta do.”

Andy looked at him nervously; wondering if she was going to have to try and escape from him on her damaged prostheses.

Driver,” Scruggs said to the cabby behind the wheel. “Take us to the ferry landing at the port. We need to get to Da Vinci Airport. This lady has a plane to catch.”


	34. Chapter 34

Bella strode back and forth in front of the villa and screamed rabidly at the gathered Groundskeepers. “Worthless!” She screamed in her native tongue of Italian, spittle flying from her beautiful lips. “She is a woman with only one leg and one arm! She does not know the grounds and you allowed her to escape?!” Her eyes turned her anger to focus on her assistant, Lucrezia, who stood slightly away from the gathering before the villa. “And you!” Bella roared. “You who have been like a sister to me! You betrayed me! The only way that My Andy could have gotten off the grounds was if she had the key to the gardener's gate! A key that you are entrusted with! Why, Lucrezia? Why would you do this to me when I have given you everything?!”

Lucrezia looked at her employer, tears welling in her eyes. “I did it for you Bella,” she answered. “I did it because I love you and I would not see your folly destroy all you have achieved,” she replied in their shared cradle language.

Bella moved into Lucrezia's personal space and got into her assistant's face. “You are jealous of me! You have always been jealous of my success,” she screamed. “You are nothing! You will not ruin my plans. My Andy will be returned here. She will stay until she loves me and no longer wishes to leave. When my little love comes back from his service with the Italian Medical Corp he will join us here and we will find a man that he can love. Then we will be a family again!” She snorted angrily and turned away from Lucrezia. “You will go inside now and pack your things! You will leave my employ in the morning! And if you dare say so much as another word to anyone here I will see to it you never work again for anyone of worth!”

Lucrezia nodded once, acknowledging the instruction and the threat. She turned and, fighting tears, she retreated into the villa.

Bella turned to Amelie who stood uncomfortably among the gathered groundskeepers. Bella knew the woman hadn't understood a word of what had been said, not speaking any Italian. “Amelie!” She snapped in effortless French. ”You are the detective! Take one of the fast cars! Go and detect! Find her! She is lost and confused. She does not remember our love! Bring her back here that I may care for her or our contract is null and void! Fail and I will throw you back into that sewer of an office that I found you in, in Paris. I will see to it that your incompetence is known by the press so that you will never work again! Find Mia Andy!”

Amelie moved immediately to obey.

***** 

Early morning found Emily rushing to finish arranging Miranda's office before the Fashion Icon arrived for the day. The new second assistant Amanda had been dispatched for Miranda's latte. The magazines and periodical were place just so on the desk. The bottle of Pellegrino was placed within easy reach of Miranda's chair. As Emily began to lay out the many Newspapers that were placed on Miranda's desk each day a banner headline caught her attention:

Louisiana Senator Arrested For Forcible Rape of Minor.

Miranda found her there, standing beside the desk, lost in the article. 

***** 

Amelie, through the Groundskeeper who had been assigned as her driver, was questioning the girl that she had discovered standing near the mouth to the access road that lead to the gardener's gate of Bella's Villa when a boy drove up on a scooter. In quick discussion with the two teenagers, she discovered that Sachs was no longer alone. The description of the man who had intercepted the fleeing Hero was unlikely to be anyone other than the American soldier that was her assigned escort. The boy gave her the information that the Hero Sachs was headed for the port ferry and from there to the Airport in Rome. She rushed back to the car she'd been given and instructed her driver to hurry down to the port.

***** 

“I don't get it,” Roxanna said, shaking her head. “My mom was completely freaking out. “

Cassidy cuddled a little closer on the couch. “Yeah, Mom has that effect on people. They believe all the hype and what they read in the papers. They don't see the real her.”

“But all she did was get on the phone and tell my mom that I wasn't trying to get away with anything and that I really had been invited to dinner with you.” Roxanna exclaimed.

Cassidy smiled. “She likes you. I can already tell. I've got a feeling that your Mom is just going to have to get used to invitations from the Priestly's. Then Cassidy's smile turned wicked. “Wonder what your Mom's going to do when my Mom invites her and your father for dinner.”

Roxanne chuckled, “Her head might explode. All last night it was Miranda Priestly this and Miranda Priestly that.” Roxy suddenly looked concerned. “Why would your Mom invite my Mom and Dad to dinner?”

Cassidy sighed contentedly. “Cause she thinks you're good for me, silly, and she likes to get to know a little bit about the parents of kids her daughters are going to be hanging around with a lot.”

“Is that what I'm gonna be doing?” Roxy asked playfully. “Hanging around you a lot?”

“If you know what's good for you, it will be,” Cassidy answered in the same playful lilt. “Not all that's written about my Mom is wrong. She can be a real terror when she's pissed. And I'm my mother's daughter.” She playfully gave Roxy the patented Priestly “glare”.

Roxanna put her arm around Cassidy's shoulder and leaned in, brushing lips against Cassidy's cheek. “Your Mom asked me to bring my Tarot deck sometime. Asked if I'd read her cards.”

Cassidy nodded. “Like I said, she likes you.

***** 

The parents of Ashlyn Miller and the other students involved in the plot to have Caroline and Cassidy Priestly expelled from Dalton were summoned to a mandatory meeting by Mr. Lambert, the school disciplinarian. Most of the gathered parents were very much like the children they were raising. They felt entitled and above it all. They milled around, angry that they had been ordered to attend, after all they were busy people with more important things to be doing. Mike's assistant had, however, assured that at least one of each child's parents would be present by telling them that if a parent did not attend, the child of said parent faced summery expulsion from the school. The number of people involved was too large to be accommodated in the vice-principal’s office, so the meeting had been moved to one of the classrooms. 

Mr. Lambert had been rather surprised that the headmaster of the school did not wish to this meeting as it concerned so many wealthy and prominent students, parents, and alumni. After the disciplinarian had finished stating his case and asked if it was a matter for the student disciplinary committee or something that the administration was going to handle directly, the Headmaster had considered for only a brief moment and then gave his answer. “Mike,” he'd said, “this is a very serious matter. Some of the material that was going to be planted in the Priestly girls' home computer is criminal in nature. Kiddie porn is a big deal. You are the vice principal in charge of discipline. It's entirely your call. You'll have my full support whatever you decide.”

Mike Lambert respected and trusted Headmaster Harold Franks. Harold wasn't throwing him to the wolves, he was saying “I respect your judgment, do what you feel you need to do.” Mike knew that when Harold Franks had said, “you'll have my full support,” he had meant exactly that. The difficulty lay in the fact that Mike also knew that he was not, by nature, the diplomat Harold Franks was. He often hated the necessity of pandering to the affluent families that made up Dalton's student body. He wanted to kick the privileged little bastards responsible for what could have happened to the Priestly girls' reputations, not only out of Dalton, but down the front steps of the building in the process.

Mike had mulled the situation over before ever going to the headmaster's office to present the evidence he had gathered. His own gut told him that he should, in fact, not only move to have the guilty students involved expelled but should also turn the ringleaders over to the proper authorities for criminal prosecution. It was time for these privileged kids to learn that there were consequences for their actions. Usually in matters such as this, it was a game of he said she said. Like on television police dramas, the guilty ones who ratted out their cohorts first got the better deal. Mike didn't want to see it happen that way this time. This time the ringleaders were going down for the crime. This time he had an ace up his sleeve. Kevin Williams had come to him when he had been first approached by those in the popular click. He had laid out the whole scheme, gave Mike a plan to thwart it, and provided the means to do so in the form of Roxanna Gilchrist.

He stood at the front of the room and spoke to the gathered adults and children. “Alright, let's quiet down and get this meeting started,” he said firmly.

Dorothy Miller, Ashley’s mother, spoke up, “Don't you think we should wait for Headmaster Franks?” she asked, her tone condescending.

“The Headmaster will not be joining us today, as this meeting is about a very serious disciplinary matter,” Mike Lambert said evenly. “As Dalton's Vice-principal in charge of discipline, that puts this matter firmly in my area of responsibility.”

“Well, get on with what you have to say,” said another one of the parents. “We're busy people.” 

Mike nodded and sighed. “Alright, I'll give it to you straight. This is one of the most serious disciplinary matters that has ever occurred here at Dalton. The students in this room were involved in a conspiracy to get two Dalton students expelled. The evidence I have gathered makes the facts surrounding this situation incontrovertible. In enacting their plot, some of the students in this room have not only broken the rules of Dalton, but also both local and federal law regarding the possession and distribution of child pornography. Now, being that I was informed of this conspiracy while it was in its early stages by the student that individuals in this room had tried to recruit to aid them in their plot, I have a pretty good idea of who did what and when. What we're going to do here is give those students peripherally involved in this plot a chance to stay at Dalton. But that chance is completely dependent on their complete cooperation and honesty in what they tell me here, today. The others, those who were the planners and the principals in this plot, will be expelled from Dalton. Their expulsion as a discipline problem will be recorded in their permanent academic record. As for the criminally-illegal nature of the material used in this intrigue, well, you'll have to talk to the FBI and the local police about that. Everything my investigation has revealed has been turned over to the District Attorney's office, who is in the process of coordinating with the responsible agencies and deciding which of your children are going to be charged with possession and attempted distribution of kiddie porn."

The room erupted into a cacophony of angry voices. 

***** 

Andy refused to move from the perch she had found at the rail of the ferry, overlooking the gangplank, where other passengers were in the process of boarding for the trip to Naples. Scruggs was pretty sure that she was just making certain that, that crazy Giovanni woman didn't manage to sneak aboard.

Scruggs himself was conflicted about his next move, He knew that officials way up the food chain from his pay grade would want to know that Corporal Sachs had been found. Not only officers in his chain of command, but officials in the State Department that were overseeing the 'good will' tour that Sachs was on. The problem was that if he contacted anybody, they'd want her back and they wouldn't give a tinker's damn that the woman Andy needed to go home. If he didn't make the phone call and then escort her back to the Embassy in Rome, the shit was going to hit the fan and he'd end up in a whole world of hurt. They'd bust him down. He'd be lucky if he didn't end up doing time in the stockade. He sighed. He figured he would likely draw about 60 days, which would mean that he'd spend an extra 10 days in the Army after his tour was up. There really wasn't any question of what he was going to do. He known the moment he'd spoken to the cab driver and told him their destination was da Vinci airport. He was going to do what he'd promised the LT he would. He was going to look after Sachs' well-fare.

***** 

Meriwether DeSaix sat in the office of Tom Blainesly, the top ranking Federal Marshal of the Fugitive Retrieval Task Force. Blainesly sat behind his desk, rocking gently back and forth in his chair, as if he simply had too much energy to sit still. 

DeSaix smiled. She hadn't been in the interview for fifteen minutes yet and she already liked the guy. He exuded an air of confidence, but also something of the controlled energy of a race horse in the gate. All that power, just dying to be let loose so it could run. DeSaix knew the feeling. She felt it every time orders came down that sent her on a hunt.

Blainesly shook his head as he paged through material he had in a manila folder. “Stupid,” he muttered. “You're a natural and they let you get away just because of something that doesn't make a damn bit of difference to the job.” He smiled and looked up, a bit of mischief in his eye. “Did they really call you ’the Bloodhound’? To your face I mean?”

“I picked the nickname up during my first tour in Iraq,” DeSaix responded. “I was new to being in-country. My CO at that time was old-school and had a hard-on for women in his command. Thought they didn't belong in a war zone, even though we were stationed back in the Green Zone in Baghdad. He had five AWOL's on his wanted list that his team hadn't been able to bring in for more than six months. My first day on the job and he dumped those hunts in my lap. I had all five in custody within two days. My CO didn't like me showing him up and thought to degrade me with the name. His CO was a good ol' boy from Alabama who had a whole kennel full of Bloodhounds back home. He thought the nickname was appropriate and told the whole chain of command that from then on, I was the go-to for difficult fugitive retrievals anywhere in Baghdad. I worked my ass off that tour, but it made my reputation in the Military Police.” Reaching for the familiar bad cup of squad room coffee he had gotten her, she quietly offered, “don't know that I'm comfortable with the idea that I'm being hired because somebody wants me on a T.V. Show.”

Blainesly broke out laughing. It took almost a full minute to get hold of himself and he wiped his eyes, “The Director wanted you hired because that Producer woman wanted you on that damn show that they're doing. I told the Director exactly what he could do with that idea. I told him I'd talk to the people you worked with and talk with you. See if I thought you'd be a good fit in the team.” He shook his head and all trace of humor was gone. “You're here talking to me now because I spent an hour yesterday talking to the guy that used to be your commanding officer at Fort Mead. I've also read your military file and had my people do a background check. You know how it is, you gotta be able to trust who you're with out there. Some of these guys we're after are bad mothers and every damn one of them has a gun. This isn't a safe job. A few of them are just not going back to prison, period. They're willing to shoot it out. I swear it feels like I've been under fire more in this job than I was during my two tours in Nam.” He pulled a piece of paper out of the folder he'd been looking through. “This says you're as cool as an ice cube under fire.”

DeSaix shrugged. “I don't know about that. I get plenty scared. I've just learned to focus past the fear and work through what needs to be done.”

Blainesly nodded. He glanced at another piece of paper from the file. “The stuff that the producer from the TV show sent over says you're in a relationship. My question to you is, is it serious?”

DeSaix nodded carefully. “Yes, it's serious. I hope it's like forever, bury us in the same plot, serious. Why? Is that a problem? I know some CO's like to have single people in positions that are likely to be in the line of fire.”

Blainesly shook his head. “I'm just the opposite. I find that people that have someone to go home to tend to be more careful and by the book. If you're in a long term relationship I feel you're more stable and less likely to do something stupid when we're working a take-down. What I don't want or need is cowboys. The job is dicey enough without throwing in some glory hound out to play hero. We've had a couple of those kind. Get em in front of that damned camera and they get stupid. I get rid of em just as fast as I possibly can.”

DeSaix shook her head. “That's not me. I like things to go smooth and the way they're planned. As for the TV crew and the camera? I'd just as soon not have them following me around,” she answered quietly.

Blainesly nodded one last time and then carefully gathered up all the papers in a stack and tapped the edges on the desk into a neat pile. “By the way,” he said, “your old CO said to tell you that when they get around to lifting the ban on gays in the Military he wants you back. I told him he was gonna have to get in line. Be at the briefing at 07:30 hours tomorrow morning. If anything comes down in the way of intelligence on picking up somebody we're after, you may be called in earlier than that. Welcome aboard DeSaix. Good to have you with us.”

***** 

Amelie arrived at the port in Capri just in time to see the ferry pulling away from the dock. Stepping out of the car she could make out a woman in the uniform like the one Andy had been wearing standing at the ferry's railing. She immediately moved to what she saw as the next logical step. She headed to the taxi stand and started questioning the cabbies as to the fares they had brought to the dock. It was only a matter of minutes and the exchange of several twenty euro notes and she had the information she was looking for. The cabbie told her that a big man dressed as a tourist had picked up the woman in uniform and brought her to the port. He also told her that their destination was da Vinci airport outside of Rome. She immediately intuited that, the airport being the destination, Sachs was planning to leave the country. Glancing at the ferry schedule she noted us that the next ferry was not for nearly an hour and a half. She decided that she needed to report to Bella and then find a way to make the crossing to Naples.

Dialing her cell phone, she expected Lucrezia to answer and was surprised when she heard Bella's voice instead . “Bella,” she said urgently, “she is on the ferry. She is on her way to da Vinci airport. I think she intends to leave the country. The next ferry is not for hours. I'm going to try to find a way to get over to Naples so I can try to catch up to them.”

“Them?” Bella demanded. “Who is with her?! Who would dare help her run away from me?!”

“From the description,” Amelie answered, “it is the other soldier. The big man. But he is not in uniform now.”

“Do not look for a boat,” Bella said angrily. “Find the heliport on the car's GPS. Go there. A helicopter will be waiting to take you to the port in Naples.”

“Not the port” Amelie said into the phone. “By the time I can get the heliport and get to Naples the ferry will have landed and they will be gone. Arrange for the helicopter to take me directly to the airport in Rome. My best chance of intercepting her is to get ahead of her.”

“I will arrange a helicopter to take you to da Vinci airport. Find her and bing her back to me, Amelie. Bring her back or so help me you will never work again,” stormed Bella.

***** 

By the time the train pulled out of Napoli Centrale train station bound for Rome, Andy was finally beginning to be able to relax. Scruggs dozed in the seat next to her and she was comforted by his presence. She sat back in her seat, closed her eyes, and allowed her mind to return to the vision of Miranda in the jewelry store.

Although the vision was crystalline in her mind, she couldn't find any context to sequence the memory in the missing part of her life. She didn't know if it was from sometime immediately after she went to work for Runway or sometime closer to her redeployment. She focused her thoughts on all she had learned since she had woken up in the hospital and realized that even for all the information she had gathered about her missing years and the few breakthroughs she'd had, she still knew very little about that lost time. What she did know was that she still carried a horrible, aching, empty place inside her and she was now aware that it had been getting worse and worse since Miranda Priestly had disappeared from the hospital in Germany. 

On that terrible day, she had challenged Miranda about the wedding ring that the woman had. She had demanded that Miranda surrender it. And then, after Miranda had left, she discovered its twin on her dog-tag chain. Her father had later said that Miranda had told him that she and Andy had been friends but had only declared their feelings for each other days before Andy deployed. She had two wedding rings on the chain around her neck, the only difference in the two bands was that one was a smaller size than the other. Since Miranda had left the hospital, circumstance had kept Andy from seeing the woman again. Now she was going home. Home to Caroline and Cassidy. Home to find out if Miranda Priestly was what would fill the awful aching lonely place inside of her. She was going to face Miranda and discover the truth. Although still agitated, once this realization had settled in, she managed to drift off to sleep with images of the beautiful older woman flashing through her mind's eye, and for once, the nightmare that so tortured her, didn't visit her while she lay in Morpheus' arms. 

***** 

Amelie landed at da Vinci airport and quickly found a diagram of the layout of the place in the terminal closest to where the helicopter had touched down. She took only a few moments to consider her quarry's likely arrival point and decided that the underground subways platform the most likely place to intercept the big man and Andy. She sighed softly. Fate had put her on a course that was going to place her in opposition to a man that only a few days ago she had found herself flirting with shamelessly as they discussed their mutual fondness for dogs, something they had strongly in common.

She had, in her quiet moments, thought of approaching him again when Bella was squiring Andy around from event to event. Flirt some more and gauge his interest. If he was interested, she had thought, perhaps they could date. Now she would have to take Andy away from him and return her to Bella. It was a shame that Andy couldn't remember her and Bella's time together, or see how deeply the Italian model loved her. But given time around Bella, surely the woman would begin to remember the past and the two could rebuild the love they had shared. It was for the best because Bella wanted to take care of the injured hero. Maybe at some point in the future the big man, T. J. he'd called himself, would come to visit Andy and when he saw how happy she would be, he'd forgive Amelie for what she must do tonight. Maybe they'd be able to start over again. By then, her two Bichon Friese, Orpheus with Eurydice, would be with her and she could introduce the dog loving man to her beloved fur children.

***** 

Meriwether DeSaix stood beside the couch in Emily's apartment, dressed in a pair of recently purchased cargo pants and a tight fitting sports bra as she carefully adjusted the straps on her new tactical ballistic vest. She checked the specially designed pockets containing the ceramic plates that would help protect her life when she was in the field chasing fugitives. Tomorrow morning she'd be a federal marshal. As she admired the yellow lettering on the blue waterproof jacket she'd been issued, the doorbell rang.

Going to the peephole she glanced out and saw a beautiful, elegantly dressed woman in her mid twenties that she didn't recognize.

She opened the door. “Yes?” she asked.

The woman looked her up and down and then smiled a seductive smile at her. “Is Emily here?” She asked, a rich Russian accent flavoring her words.

“No,” Meriwether answered. “She hasn't gotten home from work yet.”

The woman nodded. “I am a friend of Emily's from out of town. My name is Polina,” she smiled. “I know this is awkward, but an overnight package has either arrived or will arrive for Emily today. The contents of the package are something of mine.”

Meriwether nodded. “Afraid I don't know anything about it,” she answered. “But Emily will be home sometime after seven.”

The woman who had called herself Polina glanced at an obviously expensive wristwatch and sighed softly. “I suppose I will go and have some dinner somewhere and then return.”

Meriwether thought for a moment. This woman had said she was a friend of Emily's. This was Emily's apartment. She decided that being hospitable was called for. “Why don't you come in and wait here. I've just made some coffee.”

Following Meriwether into the kitchen, the Russian woman fingered a Fed Ex package, addressed to Emily. “Ahh, it had already arrived. Mr. Avery is as good as his word as always.”

“I don't know any Mr. Avery either,” Meriwether said. “I'm Meriwether, by the way. Meriwether DeSaix.” She looked the elegant woman up and down warily, “Red and I are together.”

The woman’s seductive grin turned into a full-fledged smile when Meriwether introduced herself by name. “You are the one she loves,” Polina said softly. “I had hoped to meet the one that the English Rose was willing to go to such lengths to protect. I had thought you would still be out of the country.”

Meriwether turned to the woman. “You knew I was out of the country?” she asked softly.

Polina nodded. “Yes, I know that you are a soldier and that the English Rose was desperately involved in trying to keep someone in the U.S. government from destroying your career.”

Meriwether poured two cups of coffee and then pulled a bottle of whiskey out of a cabinet, She added a healthy splash of the liquor to her cup. She motioned with the bottle and the elegant Russian woman nodded. “Maybe you'd better start at the beginning,” Meriwether DeSaix said softly as she poured a generous dollop of the amber liquid into her guest's cup.

*****

Serena looked at the modest split level suburban house before her. This was the life that her Richard had built for his family before separation from his wife of near thirty years and their impending divorce. She had flown to Cincinnati with Richard and had waited nervously in their room at the Cincinnatian Hotel while Richard had met with his soon to be ex-wife and their respective lawyers. Richard had told her that he intended to give his wife of thirty years the house and half of everything else they had jointly owned. When he had returned from the meeting he told her that the avaricious woman had demanded even more and Richard had acquiesced. On his return to the hotel, he had assured his new Brazilian lover that all he wanted were his personal possessions and some of the photographs and memorabilia of his Andy's childhood. The rest didn't matter to him. He was starting a new life with Serena and the past was the past.

She and Richard were arriving at his onetime home so that he might gather his possessions. Then they would return to New York City where they intended to explore making a life together. They had rented a panel van for the trip, Richard insisting that the only piece large enough to warrant even that was a desk that he had inherited from his father. The time of their arrival had been scheduled for when Janet Sachs was supposed to be out of the house at work. 

Richard had gone next door to meet a couple of his long time neighbors, male friends of many years, who were going to help move and load the desk into the vehicle when Janet Sachs came out of the house. “He doesn't have any money you gold-digger,” the woman spat vehemently.”

Serena looked up onto the front steps of the suburban home and smiled calmly. “I had thought you and Richard had agreed that you would be out while he gathered his things,” she answered.

“Me not be here? So you could take anything you wanted? I know what you are you whore!” Richard's soon to be ex-wife ranted. “He's broke, you slut. No money!”

Serena continued to look at the woman. “I am aware that Richard has no money, “ she said equitably. 

“He's over fifty years of age! He won't be getting any cushy job as a big deal lawyer! You can't get anything out of him!”

Serena moved closer to the woman, her smile now wicked. “Janet,” she said lightly. “What I want from Richard is the pleasure he gives me when he rides me in our bed. I've never had a lover like him before, and I'll quite willingly spend my entire fortune to keep him.”

“Fortune...?” Janet Sachs stammered.

Serena laughed softly. “I am extremely wealthy, Janet,” she answered carelessly and with wicked intent. “Richard never need work another day in his life. And if I have my way, he will retire from his labors and allow me to keep him in the lap of luxury. The only things I will ask of him is that he accept the leisure to do nothing but pursue his interests. And that he continue coming to my bed.” 

When Richard and the two neighbors walked up to the front of the house to start moving the desk, Janet was still standing there completely gobsmacked.

***** 

The subway train pulled into the station under da Vinci Airport in Rome. Scruggs helped Andy off the train as her artificial leg was still failing every few steps. He saw the woman he'd met in the bookstore, that he had since learned was also that crazy Italian Giovanni woman's personal security. He put a hand on the small of Andy's back and encouraged her toward the stairs up to the airport terminal. “Andy,” he said quietly, but with urgency as his eyes tracked the woman that was now approaching them. “Head up the stairs. If anything happens, you keep going. Find a flight. Get home. That's a direct order.”

“She's coming with me!” Amelie said to the big soldier as she took the Beretta from her purse and leveled it at him in a shaking hand.

Scruggs took another step placing himself squarely between Andy and the woman with the gun. At this range and with the angle involved there was no way that she was going to hit Andy without the bullet going through him first. He shook his head, all country polite, “Andy's got a plane to catch,” he said softly as he gently pushed Andy farther toward the stairwell and away from the woman with the gun. “She needs to go home and straighten out things with her woman.”

“No!” Amelie exclaimed, “She must come back to Bella's! Bella insists!”

Scruggs smiled and nodded. “Then you're gonna have to shoot me, Miss Bichon Friese,” he said, taking another step toward the gun.

Amelie's hand was shaking badly now as the big man moved slowly towards her. “Bella wants to take care of her! To love her!”

Scruggs shook his head and smiled sadly. “Your crazy boss don't know what love is,” he explained. “She wants to own Andy. Can't own somebody you love.”

The gun suddenly barked and jumped in Amelie's hand. The noise was deafening on the almost deserted subway platform.

Scruggs rocked backwards as the bullet struck him in the shoulder. He roared and taking several steps forward his large meaty hand slapped the gun from the frightened woman's grasp. Then her grabbed her by the shoulders and easily lifted her clear of the ground.

Andy unfroze from the shock of the loud report in the almost deserted area. She rushed towards Scruggs.

Scruggs turned and glared at her. “As you were Soldier,” he growled. “The LT left me in charge of this detail and I gave you an order Corporal Sachs! The last order you'll get in this man's army. Get inside! Find a flight! Go home and find what it is you're looking for!”

Andy stopped and looked at the wounded man where he held the petite woman up off the ground as if she weighed nothing at all. She took another tentative step towards him. “You're wounded...and you've been really decent to me,” she said to Scruggs. “They'll bust you down. I don't want to get you busted down.” 

Scruggs sighed. “I started a Buck Private, I suppose I can go out the same way.” He shook his head. “They've already screwed the LT over. Her career is in the toilet. You don't comeback from being charged under the articles on homosexuality. Even if she beats the rap her chances for promotion are done.” He shook his head. “Time to get a little even. The Army wants you here, so here is the last place I want you. Go home Sachs. Go find what it is you're looking for.”

He looked at Andy and then at the petite French woman that accosted her. “I'll keep this one here and off the telephone until your off the ground, soldier. That ought to give you a running start when you get to the other side. You know that crazy bitch is gonna send somebody after you...She's the kind that gets what she wants come hell or high water. Now Go!”

With a last look at the big man Andy turned and fled up the stairs and through the doors to the terminal.

Scruggs carefully put the small woman on the ground . “Don't move,” he said, then he took the gun in his big hand and carefully wiped any fingerprints from it. Then he threw it far across the subway platform. “When they come, you didn't see the guy that shot me. You came down the stairs. You think you saw a woman in uniform high-tailing it up the stairs as you came down. You didn't see anything else. You found me on the platform and saw I was on the ground. You moved to help me after you'd saw I was bleeding. You understand?” He said to the traumatized young French woman. “Now, have you got a cell phone? One of us needs to call the cops.”

***** 

Inside the terminal Andy was nearly at a loss for what to do. She had maybe twenty Euros in her pocket and although Scruggs had very thoughtfully brought her passport, she didn't think she could use the perk borne by the Medal of Honor to get her a flight home. She was, after all, probably AWOL although she wasn't sure if anybody was aware of that fact yet. She moved quickly along the row of different airline's ticket counters, occasionally glancing over her shoulder, worried that Amelie might not have been alone. She didn't want to be cornered and dragged back to Bella's home. While looking over her shoulder she accidentally collided with a young woman in a Stewardess' uniform. She turned to make her apologies and the knee on her artificial leg failed again for the umpteenth time that day, sending her falling to the floor.

A crowd quickly began to gather as the Stewardess moved to help her up. Without thinking Andy offered her mechanical hook hand. The woman paused and gasped and Andy thought Brilliant, Sachs, scare her to death why don't you. The Stewardess reverently whispered the single word, “Sachs” and the crowd drew closer. The Stewardess, whom she had run smack into, was speaking rapidly in Italian and had suddenly gone from looking very annoyed, which in Andy's opinion, she had every right to be, to looking like she was about to cry. Andy tried to gather herself and get up off the floor but discovered that the knee of her prosthetic wouldn't lock in any position at all, so it wouldn't hold her weight. 

A number of the growing crowd around where she was sprawled on the ground were speaking rapidly to each other, or to her, or to no one in particular, as many hands came offering assistance in getting her off the ground. 

“It's okay,” Andy said gently to the Stewardess who was hovering, and to her surprise someone spoke to the woman, apparently translating what she'd said. The Stewardess looked relieved and spoke to the woman who was acting as go between. The Stewardess spoke again and the woman who was translating said, “she says she's terribly sorry and it was completely her fault.

Andy shook her head. “Please tell her that it's very nice of her to say so, but I was the one looking over my shoulder while walking and I walked into her. Please tell her that I'm sorry for my carelessness.”

The woman dutifully passed the message and the Stewardess looked relieved. She  
spoke again and the woman again translated what was said. “She asks if you are alright?”

Andy shook her head, the stress of the last twenty-four hours colliding with the beginnings of a nagging certainty that she had likely destroyed something that had been foundational to her life when she'd chased Miranda away from the hospital in Germany, her reserves cracked and a tear leaked from her eye. “My prosthetic is damaged, and I need to go back to New York. I need to go home and I don't have my credit cards or enough money for a ticket and...and...” Another tear followed the first, as Andy tried to control feelings that were overwhelming. For a moment she wondered if she was having a nervous breakdown.

The crowd around her had gone quiet and very still as Andy struggled to gather herself. After an endless moment, the woman who had been translating came out of her apparent shock and spoke rapidly in Italian. The crowd erupted. Andy was lifted off the floor and carried to the ticket desk nearest to where she had collapsed. Andy could see that it was an Alitalia counter. The Stewardess she had collided with was speaking rapidly with the man behind the counter, who's eyes widened when he was told who was that two strong men were supporting. Several other people near the desk were engaged in what obviously was an escalating argument. The woman who was acting as translator smiled at Andy. “The Stewardess is telling the man behind the counter that she is going to change assignments so that she can see you back to New York personally and the people arguing over there are trying to decide which of them get the honor of giving up their seat so you can use it to get home.”

“Why?” Andy asked, her mind reeling. “Why would any of these people put themselves out for me?”

The woman who was translating looked at Andy if she had suddenly sprouted two head. “Why?” she replied. “Because you are Andy Sachs. You are the hero. Anything we can do for you is far too little to even begin to repay what you have done for us.”

Within twenty minutes Andy had been whisked past customs and ensconced in a seat in the first class cabin of an Alitalia Boeing 767 that was preparing to depart and bound for J.F.K. Airport in New York City. Her damaged prosthesis had even been repaired, after a fashion. One of the airline's ground crew mechanics had tightly wrapped duct tape around the failing joint. It made the entire leg stiff, like an old fashioned peg leg, but she could now walk on it without the fear of taking a serious fall on any step she took. Each member of the Cabin Crew had been by trying to make sure she was completely comfortable. The Pilot and the Co-Pilot had both come by, solemnly shaking her hand and then saluting her. The travelers around her seemed alternately curious and reverent of her presence on the plane, but left her to her thoughts.

***** 

Emily opened the door to her apartment to find her girlfriend and a woman she thought herself unlikely to ever see again seated together on her couch, laughing. Coffee cups sat before them on the coffee table as did her good bottle of twelve-year-old Tullamore Dew Irish Whiskey. They both looked up at her as she entered.

“My English Rose!” Polina said enthusiastically.

Meriwether glanced at the other woman, “Beg pardon,” she said, careful of her pronunciation as one who has had a bit too much to drink often is, “she's my English Rose.”

Polina giggled. “No,” she corrected, “she is my English Rose, she is your “Red.”

“You are both drunk,” Emily said pointedly.

Meriwether nodded. “Yep, Polina here said she's a friend of yours. Came by for something that was shipped here. She thinks it's over in that Fed Ex package that came for you today. I was just being hospitable and offered her a drink or three.”

Emily walked over to the counter and placed her purse down. She picked up the package. “What am I going to find in here?” she asked.

Polina smiled. “A Blackberry. The phone itself is unimportant. The memory card however...”

“Your little black book,” Emily answered.

Polina nodded.

Emily opened the envelope and slid out the enclosed electronic device onto the counter. She glanced at a sticky note attached to it. “Mr Avery says that your data is intact and that no copies of it have been made.”

Polina nodded again, “Mr Avery is good to his word. He will likely want my help in something in the future, so I trust things are as he says they are.” She sat forward on the couch. “Now you Emily, are you satisfied with my services?”

Emily walked over and handed the Russian woman the Blackberry. “Tell Mr. Avery that I'll pass on his message to Miranda.”

Polina nodded and rising, smiled. “Now I must go. I have other business here in the city that needs my attention. Meriwether, it was a pleasure meeting you, you lucky woman. Emily, if you're ever back in Georgetown...”

Emily nodded and saw her guest to the door. After closing and locking the door she turned fearfully towards her girlfriend.

Meriwether looked at the red-headed woman speculatively. “She told me the whole story, Red,” she said quietly. “Why didn't you tell me about everything you did? I mean Miranda told me that you had risked your job to try to protect mine, but Polina told me that you were taking on a U.S. Senator!”

Emily swallowed hard and her eyes teared up, “I didn't tell you because that Senator is your father Meri,” she whispered. “I've been so afraid that what I've done will come between us.”

“Between us?” Meriwether asked, her tone surprised as she moved to where Emily stood, close to obviously upset woman. “You're talking about a child-raping son of a bitch. He may have supplied the sperm that got my Mama knocked up, but he's no kin to me, Red. And you,... you are the most important thing that's ever happened to me,” she said, wrapping her arms around her lover and hugging her tightly. “You did the right thing. Now, I got a job today that's gonna have me living here in New York City, so I think we've got some celebrating to do.”

*****  
Bella angrily strode into Lucrezia's room to find the woman packing her belongings. “Lucrezia,” she said, as if nothing ill had passed between them earlier. “You are to get us on the first available flight to New York City. We will also need a hotel and a car and driver while there. Arrange it.”

Lucrezia turned from where she stood folding clothing into her suitcase and looked at the woman incredulously. “If you have forgotten, Bella,” she answered quietly, “you fired me. I don't work for you anymore.”

“Nonsense,” Bella continued, “I was angry that you had helped Mia Andy leave the villa grounds, but we are like sisters and I have forgiven you. It makes it more romantic if I now give chase and seek her out in New York City.”

Lucrezia shook her head, “Bella, you drugged her, kidnapped her, took her away from Rome and her escort. Amelie said that you very nearly killed him with the dose of drugs you gave him! Please Bella, Mia Bella, give up this mad scheme!” She begged.

Bella's eyes went dreamy and Lucrezia knew that the woman hadn't heard her. “Soon Mia Andy will remember our time together. She will want to be here with me...”

“Bella!” Lucrezia exclaimed passionately, “You did not have time together! You had not met this woman before you went to the first of the events in her honor. She has fled because of what you have done. Fled not only Capri, but fled the country! There will be questions! An investigation!

Bella turned her eyes from where she gazed off into her revere. She looked at Lucrezia in a flat, unfriendly way. “Why are you opposed to my happiness, Lucrezia? Why do you want to make me angry with you? Do I not give you everything you could ever want?”

Lucrezia felt tears in her eyes. “Bella, I say to you what others will not because I do love you. I beg you to reconsider what you are thinking of doing. As your friend, I tell you that this will not end well for you!”

Bella sighed. “You break my heart, Lucrezia. But if you will not help me, then I cannot have you as my assistant anymore. You may stay until the morning. But then you must leave. I will pay you through the end of the month as severance.”

Lucrezia nodded her understanding.

“And you will remember the non-disclosure agreement that you signed. You will say nothing to the press of anything you know of me,” Bella continued coldly. “Now since you will not come to your senses and do as I have asked you to do, I must go and do it myself.” 

***** 

Andy arrived in JFK Airport at something after eight o'clock in the evening. Somehow, even not having any luggage or a ticket, her passport and the MOH (metal of honor) managed to expedite her journey through customs and within thirty minutes of stepping off the plane she had managed to exchange the paltry amount of Euros in her pocket. Looking at the fifteen dollars and change she had in hand she realized that a taxi into Manhattan was out of the question. 

With the aid of an airport information desk she found an express bus that was headed for Grand Central Station and after giving the driver virtually all her remaining cash she found a seat. She watched out the window as heavy droplets of rain began to fall. 

It was almost eleven PM by the time that Andy got off the bus in front of Grand Central Station on 42nd Street. The rain was falling harder but Andy didn't allow it to deter her from the goal she had decided on. Miranda's home was thirty some blocks north and east of Grand Central. The blocks traveling north were shorter, about twenty to the mile. The east bound blocks were longer, around four or five to the mile. Andy figured her journey at somewhere in the neighborhood of three miles. It was going to be a bitch on her damaged prosthetic, but she was resolute. She pulled the collar of her uniform jacket up around her neck and started her journey.

***** 

It had been raining for days it seemed to Miranda, but the foul cold gray late October weather suited her mood. The night had been long and lonely, the twins being at their father's half the time now. A tapping at the front door drew her away from dark thoughts. She glanced at the clock and couldn't imagine who would be knocking at something after midnight.

She opened the door and found Andrea, soaked to the skin and trembling before the portal to her home. “Andrea,” she whispered, her heart began to flutter rapidly in her breast. 

Andrea looked up at her pathetically. “May I come in?” she almost whispered, her voice trembling and rough, on the verge of crying.

“Of course,” Miranda said stepping back from the door and allowing Andrea entry. “You are always welcome here,” she continued carefully.

Andrea, dripping wet, shivering and looking all the world like a half drown kitten wrapped her good arm around herself and trembling, looked at the floor. Her eyes went everywhere but to Miranda. “I.....I had to come....” she whispered. “I have to know....”

Miranda looked at the woman before her. Read her demeanor and nodded. “You're soaked to the bone,” she said quietly. “Come to the kitchen, I'll get you a towel and something hot to drink. Then we can talk.”

Andy, head down, followed Miranda deeper into the house. The kitchen was a place of warmth, the colors and décor inviting, as Andy remembered from her snooping through the premises when she was last there. Miranda quickly poured a cup of coffee, and, as Andy curiously watched, prepared it exactly the way Andy liked it, two sugars and just a dash of milk. Miranda pressed the warm mug into her hand and then turned. “I'll fetch you a bath sheet, and a robe I think, you can get out of those wet things and I'll put them in the dryer.” With that Miranda disappeared from the kitchen for a few moments.

Andy held her coffee close to her chest. Another piece of the puzzle had been presented. Miranda knew just how she liked her coffee. No hesitation, no doubt, she had just prepared the cup as if she'd done it a thousand times before. Andy placed the cup on the counter and her hand moved to her collar and worked the button there so violently she almost tore it from her blouse. Her hand sought the rings on their chain and she pulled them so they were hanging outside her clothing.

Miranda entered at that moment carrying a luxurious bath towel and seeing the rings raised an eyebrow. She moved over next to Andrea without saying a word and offered the towel that Andrea might dry herself.

Andy looked down and faltered. She didn't reach for the towel. Everything about her was obviously miserable. “I still don't remember anything Miranda.” she said to the floor. “I get flashes, out of context images sometimes, but I have no point of reference for them. I don't know if they were years ago or just before this happened to me. She dared to glance up at the woman, who was evidently hanging on every word.

Miranda, still standing there, draped the towel around Andrea's shoulders. “My research and my discussions with medical personnel have informed me that you may never retrieve those memories, Andrea...” she answered, doing her best to conceal her own pain at that prospect.

Andy's face scrunched up, she was trying desperately not to break down, “I want to remember Miranda. I want that more than anything in the world, because a huge piece of me is gone. I have this hole in me and I need to find what goes there.”

“I'll do anything I can to help you Andrea,” Miranda said softly, close to the woman's ear. “Anything at all.”

Andy looked up; her face still contorted by her fight to not break down and start sobbing. “You left the hospital, in Germany...”

Miranda nodded. “Your father and I decided that my presence was doing more harm than good. I felt that if I stayed the conflict between your mother and I would have escalated. I felt that you needed calm and quiet in which to start your recovery.” She gently took the edges of the towel where it hung around Andrea's shoulders and began to gently dry Andrea's bowed head.

“But you came for me in the first place...” Andy said, still fighting tears.

“Yes.” Miranda replied quietly.

Andrea's eyes closed as gentle hands worked the towel drying her head and hair. “Is one of these rings yours' Miranda?” She whispered, clutching them where they hung on the chain.

“Yes.” Miranda answered quietly.

“They're wedding rings.” Andy whispered.

“No.” Miranda replied. “They were promise rings. We....we wanted to make promises to each other, wanted a symbol of those promises, but time was short, you were to be deployed within days. We improvised.”

“We were lovers?” Andy asked, her voice small.

“Yes.” Miranda whispered, her hands trembling.

“How...how long?” Andy asked.

“We had become friends over the course of a year. It was only when you received orders to deploy that we spoke of how our feelings had gone beyond friendship. We had four wonderful days together.”

“And the letters,” Andy whispered, “we had the letters.”

Miranda nodded. “I sent you a letter every other day.”

“Ones that were innocuous and the...others....” Andy answered.

“I love poetry,” Miranda whispered. “The poets said what I felt and could not say. So I sent my letters in the names of my favorite poets. You were adamant that you had to go, to do what the country was demanding of you. It forced me to be circumspect so that those censoring mail in the Army could not discover that you were in a relationship with another woman. You didn't want to be charged under the Uniform Code of Conduct. You didn't want to be discharged before you'd finished what you felt you had to do. You had told me that you wouldn't be able to live with yourself if you didn't go and something happened to someone in your unit.”

Andy nodded. “Did I write you?” She asked, her voice small.

“Yes,” Miranda smiled. “I have every letter, you are, of course, welcome to read them. You, after all, wrote them...”

Andy looked up into the most magnificent pair of blue eyes. “I don't remember, Miranda. I want to. I want to more than anything. But if I don't remember, if I can't remember, can I have a second chance?”

Miranda started to speak, only to find Andrea's fingers pressed against her lips. The tearful young woman shook her head and stepped back. Her good hand went to the buttons on her uniform blouse and began undoing them. “Before you say anything Miranda, you need to see me. See me the way I am now.” her blouse floated to the floor and her hand went to her belt buckle undoing it. “You deal with the most beautiful women in the world every day and .....I'm not beautiful Miranda,” she said softly as her pants followed her blouse, revealing her plastic and metal prosthetics “...I'm a monster.”

Miranda stepped forward embracing her Andrea and kissing her soundly. “I didn't fall in love with your body Andrea.” Miranda said firmly, tears in her own voice, “I fell in love with the woman. And that hasn't changed. I've been slowly dying inside without you here with me. And now that you've come home I'll never let you go again.” She lifted the robe she'd brought and wrapped it around her Andrea. “There's a fire in my study, why don't we go sit together in front of it. I'm sure that you must have a thousand questions,” she said smiling at her companion. For the first time since Andrea had been injured Miranda was now sure everything was going to be alright.

***** 

After talking long into the night before the fire, Miranda escorted Andy to one of the guest bedrooms even though she wanted nothing more in the world than to pass the night with her arms wrapped around the woman. She knew that Andrea hadn't regained enough of her memory to make that a prudent course of action. 

When morning came and the time approached for Miranda to go to work, she thought about calling Emily and telling the British woman to handle whatever might come up that day, but Andrea suggested that they go in together, saying that she would like to see Emily and thank her again for the stalwart support when she had been so lost and feeling so alone. Miranda gently informed Andrea that her place as Second Assistant had been filled and Andrea laughed. “I would have had to turn in my notice anyway, Miranda. Somehow I just can't see myself as the type to be screwing around with the boss.” Andrea then gasped and blushed incarnadine. “Miranda...I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me...I mean you were so wonderful just holding me last night and here I go making a stupid assumption when I can't even remember if we were ever intimate.”

Miranda placed a gentle finger on Andrea's lips to quiet her now familiar habit of nervous babbling. “We had been Andrea. Several times before you were deployed. They were wonderful, loving, lusty experiences and when you feel ready, we can see if we cannot regain that aspect of our relationship. But for the moment, I am more than content to be here for you and each of us has need for reassurance.”

Andy nodded. “Miranda, you've seen me now. Seen my plastic and metal parts. Seen me near helpless without my prosthetic leg and arm.” She looked down at the floor. “I wouldn't blame you a bit if you went running for the hills.”

“Andrea Sachs,” Miranda responded sternly. “I'm going to make this crystal clear because I want you to understand it. You are, to me, the most beautiful woman in the world, in spite of your injuries. You will not leave me again. I couldn't bear it if you did.”

Andrea looked up into earnest blue eyes and a loving look and for the first time since she had woken up in the hospital with her memory shot full of holes she felt herself smile and really mean it.

***** 

Emily was overjoyed to see Andy when she arrived with Miranda. The British woman quite simply lit up. They talked excitedly for a few moments until Miranda cleared her throat. “This is a place of business,” she said, mock sternly. “Not a garden fence for old fishwives to be gossiping over.” She glanced into her office and at the lone coffee cup that sat there. “With Andrea staying with me last night she made me late this morning. I'm sure that, that cup of coffee is unacceptably cold. Emily, coffee for Andrea and I, now. Get something for yourself and Amanda while you're at it.” With that Miranda departed into her office.

Andrea chuckled softly. “I made her late,” she whispered to Emily. “I didn't take twenty minutes trying on different blouses to get just the right shade of cream to go with her suit.”

Emily glanced into the office. “She looks divine though doesn't she?” She whispered wistfully. 

“Emily!” Miranda's voice came from the office. Emily startled. “Coffee.”

“Right away Miranda,” Emily said, but Andy reached out and grabbed her arm.

“I'll go Miranda,” Andy called out lightly. “I need to stretch my leg and your other assistant isn't here right now so you'll need Emily to watch the phones..” 

“Very well Andrea,” Miranda's disembodied voice said softly. “Just don't move at your usual glacial pace. I haven't had my coffee yet this morning and that tends to make me cranky.”

“Yes, Miranda,” Andy answered, winking at Emily and then moving with deliberate slowness, toward the door to the hallway. 

***** 

Arabella Messalina Giovanni, dressed to the nines, sauntered into the lobby of the Ellis-Clark building and approached the security desk. Seeing a young man in uniform behind the desk she turned on her seductive model's smile. “Buon giorno,” she said, allowing the raw sexuality she had used so successfully all of her adult life as a weapon, to color her words. “You will tell Miranda Priestly that Bella Giovanni is here and that I have come to negotiate terms for my appearance in her magazine.”

The security guard, immediately star-struck, made the call. Five minutes later a harried looking young woman approached the desk. “Ms. Giovanni?” the woman said. “I am Amanda, Miranda Priestly’s second assistant. Miranda is very pleased that you're here and has asked that I escort you up to her office. If you will follow me please?”

***** 

Still somewhat groggy from the anesthetic they'd used to put him out while removing the bullet from his shoulder, Scruggs pushed himself up in a hospital bed. Standing at the end of the bed were the two American Embassy officials that he had contact with just before he'd gone out looking for Andy. The older man with an Oklahoma twang flavoring his accent smiled down at him. 

“Poisoned one day and shot the next, this operation hasn't exactly been a milk run for you has it, Corporal?” He asked, humor in his tone. 

Scruggs chuckled and then groaned. “Don't make me laugh,” he said, his face going serious. “This damned thing didn't hurt this much when I first got shot.” He glanced around and noticed a third well-dressed man that he did not recognize in the room. The third man stood apart and watched Scruggs with an air of concern.

“Where's Sachs,” the younger man from the Embassy demanded imperiously without any kind of prelude. 

Scruggs eyes went flat and unfriendly. “Gone home,” he answered. “When I got hit, I ordered her to go find a flight and get the hell out.”

“YOU WHAT!?” The younger man yelled. “ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?! YOU DON'T HAVE THE AUTHORITY TO...YOU'RE...YOU'RE NOTHING BUT A GRUNT CORPORAL!”The younger man angrily sputtered. “You didn't have the authority to send Corporal Sachs anywhere! This is a State Department matter! For God's sake the Ambassador had been on the phone alternately with President Obama and the Italian Prime Minister for most of the day! You tell us what you know or so help me I'll... 

Scruggs glared at the younger man and then looked to the older man. “You know,” he said calmly, his demeanor all South Carolina good ol' boy, “I was going to be cooperative with State Department personnel, but being nothing but a grunt Corporal I think I'd better fall back on what I was taught. I'll just wait to make my report to my chain of command when one of them eventually gets here. You can get whatever information you can pry out of them.”

“TONY!” The older man barked. “Shut up!” Turning to Scruggs he spoke softly. “Corporal,” he said, Corporal Sachs' mission isn't over yet. Our Ambassador is trying to smooth things over, but word of her going missing has begun to leak and the Italian people are becoming increasingly upset. The Italian Government fears that if they can't produce Sachs fairly soon that there could be riots in the streets.”

Scruggs turned again and glared at the younger man. “This operation is under military jurisdiction. I was assigned as part of Corporal Sachs' escort and protection detail. When the LT was ordered home she left me in charge,” he said in a dangerously soft tone. “That means that any lawful order I gave Corporal Sachs, she was duty bound to obey. I used my best judgment in the situation I found myself in. When I got zapped on the subway platform under the airport I ordered Sachs to engage escape and evade tactics and to get the first flight she could manage back to American soil.”

The well-dressed man that Scruggs didn't know spoke. “Corporal Scruggs, I am General Giulio Moretti. I am the Commander in Rome for the Raggruppamento Operativo Speciale. We are the division of the Carabinieri that are responsible for protecting the Italian people from terrorism. You say that you ordered the Hero Sachs to flee Italy because you feared for her safety?”

Scruggs looked at the well-dressed man and then at the older man from the State Department . When the older man nodded, Scruggs started to speak. “Corporal Sachs was drugged and taken against her will from the luncheon the day before yesterday. I was drugged to the point that it damn near killed me. She was my responsibility, so I went out looking for her as soon as I was able. Intelligence I gathered led me to a general area on the island of Capri. On my arrival there I discovered that Sachs had managed slip her captors and was on the run. I got to her first. We immediately left Capri for Naples. From Naples we took the train to Rome. On that train ride, I questioned Sachs. She didn't know who had grabbed her and with neither of us knowing who the enemy was, I decided that I couldn't adequately protect her. I then changed our destination from our embassy in Rome to the airport. I was going to follow the last orders that Lieutenant DeSaix gave me which was to do what ever was necessary to insure Corporal Sachs' safety. In that moment I interpreted the best way to carry out that order was by getting her back to the U.S. We made it to the subway station under the airport. I got off the train and it started to pull away from the station. Sachs and I were, as far as I knew then, alone on the platform. I took a round in the shoulder before I ever saw who shot me. I lashed out at a figure in my peripheral vision and I saw a pistol hit the floor. The SOB that put a hole in me took off up the subway tunnel like a monkey with its ass on fire. Knowing that I was going to need a medic and that, that was going to nail my feet down for a while, I then ordered Sachs to use her escape and evade training, get into the airport and go home. I wanted her safe and out of the line of fire.”

The General of the Carabinieri nodded. “Do you believe that the the man that attacked you was after the Hero Sachs?” He asked.

Scruggs shrugged and then groaned softly. “Note to self, don't do anything that requires moving my shoulder.” He then looked at the Carabinieri Officer. “I can't think of anything I've done while in-country that would have anybody wanting to shoot me. If I'd been in uniform I might have been a target of opportunity, but I was dressed like a civilian tourist. My attacker didn't ask for my wallet or anything else. He put a round in me as soon as the train cleared the platform.” He shook his head. “Sachs must have been the target.”

“Can you describe the attacker?” The Italian Police Officer questioned.

“Male, Five foot six to five foot eight, wearing one of those knit snow mask hat thingies. You know, the ones that cover the whole head and with the eye and nose holes? Dressed in jeans and a dark jacket,” Scruggs replied convincingly.

“And the woman that was with you when the Carabinieri and the ambulance arrived?” The Police Officer asked.

“Good Samaritan,” Scruggs replied. “Came down the stairs and onto the platform soon after Corporal Sachs had gone up the into the airport. She found something to put over the hole in my shoulder. Applied pressure to staunch the bleeding and called for help.”

The Italian police officer nodded. “We will start an immediate search for the man that assaulted you Corporal Scruggs. The Carabinieri will not rest until the one that would dare attack the Hero Sachs has been apprehended!” He said forcefully. “If we should require more information, can we contact you through the Embassy?”

“Yes Sir,” Scruggs replied. “At least until I receive new orders.”

The General of the Carabinieri strode purposefully from the room.

The older man looked at Scruggs speculatively and then glanced at the younger man from the Embassy. “Tony, go get Corporal Scruggs and I a cup of coffee.”

The younger man glared at the older one but left to do as he'd been told.

The older man moved closer to Scruggs' bed. “It was a good story, soldier,” he said in his pleasant voice. “But I bullshit people for a living and I've gotten damn good over the years seeing when someone is shoveling shit. You know who grabbed Sachs, don't you?”

Scruggs looked directly forward, his eyes glued to an imaginary point on the wall. “Not on the record, Sir!” He answered, as if he were speaking to a superior officer.”

The older man nodded. “Okay, Son, off the record then.”

Scruggs took a quick glance at the man. “This goes any farther than right here and right now and a very nice lady is gonna get ground up in it,” he said softly, watching the door to make sure they weren't being overheard.

“The Prime Minister's wife,” the older man conjectured. “She was your intelligence source.”

Scruggs nodded. “I'm not gonna let that happen. Sachs should be safe back in the States. Person that grabbed her isn't anybody we need to be worried about there. Here she's got some pull. She can't touch Andy back home with any kind of impunity. The Carabinieri won't find who they're looking for, because he doesn't exist. Word will leak to the press eventually that terrorists made an attempt on Corporal Sachs and the Italian people will understand her going home.”

“All wrapped up in a pretty package, Corporal Scruggs,” the older man nodded and watched him for a long moment speculatively. “Maybe when you get out of the Army, you'd consider coming to work for us?” he asked softly. “I think you might be damn good fit in the State Department.”

Scruggs shook his head no. “I gotta go see a lady about some dogs,” he answered. He lay back in his hospital bed and closed his eyes. He had always thought it was going to be big dogs. He liked big dogs. What the hell do I know about Bichon Friese? He thought petulantly. He sighed and with the pain killers in his system he drifted toward sleep. His last conscious thought was, I guess I need to get to a book store. Looks like I've got me some more reading to do.

***** 

Amelie gathered her things from the room she'd had while in Bella's employ as Lucrezia waited for her in the foyer of the Villa. Lucrezia had given her a large amount of Euros, telling her it was payment for services rendered. Amelie was grateful for the money. She was going to have to stay in Rome at least a few more days until she was certain the man she'd accidentally shot was going to recover fully. When she had finished packing the few things that were hers she went downstairs to join Lucrezia. They were going to share a taxi to the ferry port and then a ferry ride to Naples.

“I'm sorry she fired you,” Amelie offered softly.

Lucrezia shook her head and smiled sadly. “She will come and find me when this insane obsession of hers has run its course. She will need me then to pick up the pieces of her heart.”

Amelie nodded. “Why do you do it?” she asked softly. 

“Because I am the only one that truly cares for the woman Bella,” the Italian Model's longtime assistant replied.

***** 

Andy had been on the way back into the Ellis-Clark building with tray of Starbucks coffees she had gone out for. She was actually in the turnstile action of the revolving door before she recognized Bella standing in the security desk. Panic raced through her. She came very near to dropping the coffee but there being no other alternative, she simply continued to push the door. She gathered a few stares from the other people in the turnstile of the door when she did not exit into the building, but continued to push the door until she was again out on the New York City sidewalk. She quickly and almost blindly moved down the street and around the side of the building looking for another access. She was suddenly very irrationally afraid and all she knew was that she desperately needed to find Miranda.

***** 

Miranda leaned in to air kiss the cheeks of the woman that was, at that moment, the most prestigious model in the world. Emily sat enraptured. The woman entering the office was a legend in the fashion world and if she were here it must mean that she had decided on Runway as the first American magazine she would appear in. If this were so, it would be huge.

Miranda placed a hand on the small of the beautiful woman’s back to guide her into her office. “Might I get you something my dear?” she asked, “Coffee, water?” 

“I have had a disagreeable night and a long flight. Perhaps you could offer me something stronger?” Bella said petulantly, her countenance one of a diva.

Miranda smiled. “I keep a well-stocked bar in my office for when I have important and honored guests such as you. Allow me to make you a drink. If I remember correctly, a Champagne Cocktail is the drink you favor, is it not?” She said, moving to a cabinet behind the desk and opening the doors of a concealed mixing station.

“Emily!” she called out. “Would you go and see what has become of my coffee? I’d swear that girl had to walk to Columbia for it!” She started to gather the ingredients for a Champagne Cocktail and glanced at Bella. “There are many variations on this recipe, is there one you prefer?”

“I'm so pleased you remember, Miranda. It means a great deal to me,” the Italian Model offered in her most seductive tone. “A Flitini, its Campari, pineapple juice and Champagne.“ She smiled flirtatiously. “I would bet that you are wondering why I am here today.”

Miranda's hands glided through making the drink in an accomplished manner. “I would hope that you have reconsidered appearing in Runway,” she said offering her guest the fruit of her labors.

“Yes!” Bella exclaimed delightedly. “However there are a few conditions.”

Miranda smiled her cold negotiating smile. “I'm more than willing to listen to your proposal,” she answered softly.

***** 

It took Emily ten increasingly frantic minutes to find Andy. A call to the Starbucks informed her the girl had already left. A call to the security desk told her that Andy hadn't come back through the lobby, and the guard knew Andy from when she had worked at Runway before so Emily was inclined to believe him. She intuited that the other place that Andy was likely to go was to visit with Nigel. She called his office and asked if he's seen Andy. He replied in the negative and then after a moment's pause he said, “Jocelyn is here with me. She says she saw Andy hurry into the Closet about five minutes ago.”

Emily pondered that for a moment. Something didn't feel right at all. Andy, she knew, was one to finish any job she started. If she'd gone for coffee then she would have brought the coffee back unless something had stopped her. “Amanda,” Emily said quietly, “watch the phones. I'll be back in a little while.”

The first clue to Andy's whereabouts in the Closet was the tray of cooling Starbucks' coffee set on a bench near the changing cubicles. Emily found the girl cringing in the back of one of enclosures. “Andy!” the Brit said sharply, “I know you still don't remember the way we do everything around here but you can't just go gallivanting off. Especially when something as important to the magazine as Arabella Messalina Giovanni coming in to talk to Miranda about being in Runway is happening!” 

Andy cowered farther back. Emily had seen this behavior once before when Andy had been so traumatized over someone seeing her wearing her prosthetics for the first time. Something had terrified the girl. “What is it Andy?” Emily asked gently, the intense feelings of needing and wanting to protect this broken woman surging to the surface of her consciousness.

“Please don't tell her I'm here! Please?! I'll just stay here until she's gone. If you don't say anything she won't know where to find me,” Andy almost sobbed, the words coming out so fast and that she was near to babbling.

“Who Andy?” Emily asked gently. “You don't need to be afraid. I'm here with you. You know I'll take care of you. You know that Miranda and I will always take care of you.”

“She was down in the lobby and then when I came back upstairs she was going into Miranda's office with Miranda,” the frightened ex-soldier almost whispered.

“Are you talking about Arabella Giovanni?” Emily asked, perplexed.

Frightened brown eyes found Emily's blue ones and Andy began to speak, telling the British Woman about the time from the moment she met the Italian Model up until her fleeing from Italy. 

***** 

Bella, legs crossed and her entire demeanor singing of seduction, sat smiling at Miranda across her desk when Emily, un-summoned and hurriedly entered the office.

“Emily,” Miranda said quietly. “I am in the middle of a meeting.”

Emily nodded. “I know, Miranda, but I have something that requires your immediate attention.” 

Miranda knew that Emily was perfectly aware that it was worth an employee's job to interrupt her on the best of days. To interrupt a meeting with a model that Emily knew Miranda had been pursuing for her magazine for years, had to be urgent indeed. She nodded to the red-head and turned back to Bella as Emily approached the desk. “What was it you were saying Bella?” She asked pleasantly.

“Ahhh yes”, the beautiful Italian woman smiled. “Andy Sachs works for you. As I am sure you know, she is the hero of all Italy. My last condition is that you instruct her to be my liaison and dresser. Simply tell her that she is to do all things I ask and everything to keep me happy or she will be out of a job...”

At that instance, Emily moved in and leaned down, whispering for a long moment into Miranda's ear. 

Miranda nodded once brusquely, acknowledging to Emily that she had heard and understood the message imparted. She turned from Emily and brought her eyes fully on the woman in the chair across her desk. “So you have finally decided you wish to be in an American magazine.” She said evenly.

Bella nodded, still smiling at the white haired fashion goddess.

Miranda's eyes narrowed and her lips pursed. “Then go to Vogue,” she said, her tone clipped, the intonation the same as if she'd just told the Italian Beauty to go to hell.

Bella was taken aback. She had offered Miranda her body, offered the Icon her presence in American Runway. All she had asked in return was that a Second Assistant, one that was no longer to the demanding standards of beauty at Runway, be instructed to do whatever was necessary to keep her happy. “I do not understand, Miranda,” she offered looking at the imposing figure and getting her first real glimpse of the implacable Devil in Heels. 

Miranda looked at the Model she wanted more than any other for the pages of her magazine and spoke carefully, as if to a particularly dense child. “This negotiation is over, Ms. Giovanni. Any future communications Runway has for you will be communicated through my protégé, Ms. Charlton ,” she said very formally and she nodded to where Emily stood. “After this moment, any association between you and I has ended. I do not wish to see you again. Cross my path anywhere other than when you are working a catwalk and I will respond by letting all the designers know that if you appear in a show, I will not attend. Andrea is mine, Bella! Mine and mine alone! If you attempt to take her from me again, I will destroy you. I will do whatever it takes and there will be no mercy. I will see to it that your career ends and you end up back in the gutter you came from.” With that, Miranda rose and stalked angrily, but elegantly out of the office.

Bella turned to Emily, her countenance shocked and her eyes wide with surprise. Emily gave the woman her best imitation of Miranda's cold smile. “I'm not so forgiving as Ms. Priestly, Ms. Giovanni,” she said so quietly that one had to truly listen for what she was saying. “Go anywhere near Andy Sachs ever again and I. Will. End. You.”

Bella looked at the red-headed woman and shivered. She believed her pronouncement. If she were to continue to pursue the hero Sachs, this woman would hurt her. She licked her lips, nodded her understanding and couldn't believe how turned on she was by the woman in the room with her. 

***** 

Miranda appeared in the doorway of the changing cubical where Andy still hid. Andy glanced up at the Angel of her dreams. “Come along Andrea,” Miranda said softly reaching out a hand to assist Andy to her feet. “It's time for us to go home. The girls will be returning from their Father's this afternoon and they will be most excited to see you.”

Andy looked up with scared eyes and reaching out, took Miranda's hand. 

***** 

The President of the United States sat in the Oval Office with his wife standing at his side. Across the desk stood General Fisk from the Pentagon and General Keiffer from the Joint Chiefs of Staff. “Let me get this straight, General Fisk,” the President said curtly. “You've lost Corporal Andy Sachs, a disabled Medal of Honor recipient. 

“Sir,” the General answered. “Sachs was abducted in Italy. Her escort, Corporal Scruggs managed to locate where Sachs had been taken and when he arrived she had managed to elude her captors. Not knowing what the size of the opposition might be and knowing that Sachs is a high value target to Islamic fundamentalist terrorists, Scruggs then made the decision to get Sachs out of Italy until he could assure her safety. On arrival at the airport in Rome, Scruggs was shot and wounded by person or persons unknown. At that time he ordered Sachs to engage in escape and evade tactics and get back to the U.S. Since then we've lost track of Corporal Sachs.” 

The President looked at the General and then at his wife. “Will you tell him Michelle or should I?”

Michelle Obama looked at the General and smiled. “Corporal Andy Sachs landed in New York City last night General. She is safe and sound and presently with her life partner.”

The General stiffened. “Why didn't she report for duty?” He demanded. “If she's here and hasn't reported she's AWOL.”

Michelle shook her head and smiled a winning smile. “No, General. As of the moment Andy Sachs stepped foot on American soil, she was honorably discharged from the Military. She's a civilian now. I have that in writing signed by the Commander- in-Chief.

The General looked at the President. “But Sir,” he said, “the mission in Italy isn't over. It is my understanding that the people of Italy are very upset that they couldn't protect Sachs. The opportunity for us to complete the hearts and minds mission...”

Michelle smiled. “Don't worry General. My husband will be speaking with the Italian Prime Minister a little later today to inform him that Andy Sachs will be returning to Italy in the near future as a civilian. She will then continue the good will tour visiting several Italian cities.

The two Generals nodded their understanding and when dismissed, left the room. The President turned and patted his lap, inviting his wife to sit down. “So, Ms. Sachs is safe?”

Michelle sat down and snuggled against her husband, enjoying the moment of closeness that their busy schedules often didn't allow. “Yes, according to what she's told Miranda the abduction was an obsessed fan and not a terrorists’ action.” 

“When will she be returning to Italy?” he asked. “I'll need to let the Prime Minister know.”

“I don't know the dates exactly. But Miranda said that they would start their tour in Milan during fashion week there, so just get your assistant to find out when that is.”

The President nodded. “Thank you for your help with this Michelle.”

Michelle chuckled and stole a kiss. “It was my pleasure, Barak.”

***** 

Seeing Bella at Runway had frightened Andy more than she had wanted to admit, but Miranda had seen right through her. When they had arrived back at Miranda's townhouse she had asked if she might try to nap, still being fatigued from the strain of the past few days. 

When it came time to lie down she realized that she didn't want to be alone and asked if Miranda might sit with her while she slept.

***** 

The dream came again in all its horror. Andy had never been this far into the terror before. AK-47 rounds pocked the crumbling sandbag wall in front of her as she screamed into the radio. “I say again! On my location! Let it rain! Let it rain!”

“Duck and cover, Sierra Four-One. Incoming.” The tinny voice of the radio operator replied.

Andy turned from the walls and reached up clutching the ring around her neck. She could hear the scream of the shells coming out of the night sky and she knew with certainty she'd be dead in seconds. She closed her eyes. “I love you Miranda,” she whispered, “and I'm so sorry...”

Andrea moaned in her sleep and her eyes came wide open. Her breath came rapidly and her heart pounded in her chest. But this time the angel was there with her in physical form. Miranda's arms encircled her and held her in safety as she lay against Miranda's breast. She looked up into Miranda's worried eyes and whispered. “I remember.” She turned and fiercely embraced the woman in bed with her “I remember, Miranda,” she whispered, tears of joy leaking from her eyes and wetting Miranda's cheek. “I remember that I love you and I can feel it inside me. It’s filled me up inside again. I remember that I'm yours and you're mine. I love you Miranda! I love you!”

***** 

After Andrea's revelation the rest of the night passed quietly with each holding the other tightly in their arms. Gentle questioning by Miranda probed at Andrea's memory, but only discovered that Andrea had not, in fact regained all her memories. Andrea assured Miranda, however that the feelings she was feeling were both genuine and intense. Regardless of the fact she still could not remember parts of her past. She did not question that she belonged with Miranda and not only loved her, but would do so until the day she died.


	35. Chapter 35

Epilogue

Serena awoke and stretched her long beautiful limbs. She rose from her bed, gloriously naked and padded to the shower. As she adjusted the temperature of the water, she cast her mind back in time. November already, she sighed happily. It's been more than a month since Andy came home from Italy and almost that long since Richard and I drove back from Cincinnati.” She stepped into the steaming water stream. Funny, I used to love showering in the mornings and now I hate it. I wash myself and I can no longer smell Richard on me. No longer smell our lovemaking and I feel lost all day long without it. It just doesn't feel right not to smell him on me. It isn't the way things are supposed to be anymore. Serena chuckled to herself. She had made good on her musings to Emily about finding her perfect man and sexing him into submission. She made love to her Richard every chance she got; before work, at lunchtime, in the evenings. He is like a beautiful drug that I simply cannot get enough of, she thought as her hands began to caress her soapy body. She had even started taking outrageous chances sometimes, so far once in a crowded movie theater and once in her office at Runway in the middle of the day with her staff just outside the unlocked door when any of them could have walked in at any moment. 

For Richard's part, her thoughts continued to spin, he had begun to speak of them as a couple in the long term, musing about where they might retire together someday and of growing old together.

Serena admitted that things were a bit nervous around Andy, who was less than a year younger than She was. Serena recognized that Andy didn't remember their acquaintance when Andy was at Runway before being redeployed by the Army. Serena was now virtually a stranger to Richard's daughter but Richard's daughter was doing her level best to be accepting. 

When she and Richard went out in the evenings Serena found herself shying away from the places that the other Clackers from Runway gathered. She had been told by Emily that the office grapevine was commenting on how she glowed each morning. How sated and satisfied she seemed all the time now. Then one night she and Richard were out together at one of the bars that Clackers from Runway frequented. She had gone to the Ladies' Room for a few moments and come back to two Clackers from the Closet trying to get Richard to leave and go home with them. Richard didn't miss a beat. As she approached the trio she heard him tell them clearly that he was with her and that they were monogamous. While his being faithful in a situation that most of the men Serena had dated would have fallen on like a hungry dog, reassured her completely, still, what followed was an ugly scene. She hated losing her temper like that and even if the scene had been completely necessary to make clear her claims on the man she was with; she would prefer not repeating it. She was blissfully happy with Richard and he seemed completely happy with their arrangement. Serena had somehow reached heaven, she was sure of it.

***** 

Two months since Andy's been living with us, Caroline thought happily as she doodled improvements to the sketches in the drawing pad she kept the designs of outfits she had envisioned. And everything is so much better now.

The twins had been there for Andrea and their mother every step of the way. They had, had some inkling that their mother's and Andrea's relationship had changed into something more than it had been just before Andrea had been deployed to Afghanistan. Their mother's actions and her dark mood after Andrea was wounded had cemented things in the twin's mind. They had decided that they were just going to have to get used to the fact that they were going to have two mothers rather than a mother and a father. Other kids at Dalton managed with same sex parents and the twins were completely united in the belief that with one of their Mother's being Andy, who, in their freely shared opinion, was just about the coolest person in the whole world, this wasn't going to be any problem. This 'coolness' had been imparted to Andy because, they agreed, she made their Mother smile...a lot.

The girls had benefited from Andy's presence because the new, post-memory loss Andy didn't defer to their Mother's every small sound of displeasure as the old Andy did. This one, not remembering her time at Runway said exactly what she thought. That was one of the reasons that Caroline was now being allowed to take sewing classes. After her Mother had clearly told her daughter that sewing was beneath her, Andy had gone and gotten Caroline's pad of designs and sitting down beside Miranda had very purposefully paged through them. “Miranda,” Andy had said, “How is she going to realize any of these designs if she doesn't know how to construct an outfit?” She looked sideways at her white haired lover, “I bet before you got to be the Miranda Priestly of Runway, somebody had taught you to sew.”

Miranda had been quiet for the remainder of that evening and Caroline was afraid that she had precipitated a fight between her mother and Andy because of her desire to take a stupid sewing class. When Andy tucked her in that evening, she'd told her not to worry about it. That it was just her Mother's way and the idea was percolating in her mother's head. Andy had made it sound so funny that Caroline could just picture her mother's head as one of the old fashioned coffee pots with the clear dome on top. Caroline could see in her minds-eye one colorful idea after another bubbling through the dome.

After school the next day Caroline got a call from her Mother's Second Assistant asking Caroline for all the details about the sewing course she wanted to take. A week later she started the Saturday morning course. 

The twins’ new social endeavors at Dalton had borne fruit in unexpected ways. Their new inclusive clique had spread like wildfire through the school after the nastiness of the expulsion of five of the popular clique had subsided. The incidence of bullying and tormenting of those students that “didn't fit in” to any of the established social cliques dropped off to almost nothing and student organizations, such as the debating team and the cheerleaders squad, were benefiting from the fact that students who would have never considered going out for those particular types of extracurricular activities were now not only doing so, but in that process bringing new talents and ideas to the groups. There was, it seemed to the twins, a lot less drama at Dalton these days. 

The twins, Ian and Roxanna spent a great deal of time working through all the challenges of organizing and producing Dalton's First Annual Poetry Slam and Talent Show, but all too soon it was the second week of December and the night of the production had come and gone. It was one of the best-attended events any Dalton staff could remember with a standing room only sold out crowd. Calls for a second performance were numerous enough that the school administration approved the request and another performance was scheduled for the following week. When the receipts of the two-night event were tallied, the show had raised more for the chosen charity than any charity drive in Dalton history. The Wounded Warriors Project was grateful for the check. Cassidy and Caroline, in the company of their father, delivered it to the charity's offices. There they made the necessary contacts to carry out their plan for a surprise Christmas gift to one particular wounded warrior, who was very near and dear to both their hearts.

Christmas was almost upon them now and with their father's help, their gift to Andy would be ready in time. It would need some fittings and such after they had presented it to Andy Christmas morning, but when the weather changed, their second Mom – Andy Sachs – would return to running in the Park like she used to love to do.

Cassidy's and Roxy's relationship was going strong and her sister was happier then Caroline could ever remember her being. Caroline was dating Ian, but any kind of long-term relationship was unlikely. Ian had found out soon after the Poetry Slam that in the middle of next year his father was to be promoted and his post would be moved from the British Consulate here in New York City to the Embassy in Beijing, China. While she liked Ian and enjoyed his company, she was okay with the fact that their lives were going to take different directions. She had found her calling. She was going to follow her mother into fashion, not in publishing, but as a designer. On the whole her life was like the song she had heard on an oldies radio station the other day, “the future's so bright, I gotta wear shades,” she laughed to herself.

***** 

DeSaix was as angry as she could ever remember being as the elevator made a slow journey to the floor she had selected. “Three months since I got recalled from Italy,” she thought to herself furiously, “and I can't believe the shit I'm putting up with. First, it's that crazy Italian model sending expensive gifts to MY girlfriend. Then last week when Red and I are out to dinner for her birthday the crazy bitch shows up at our table and invites herself to sit down. She'd already paid the management for our meal. Hell, we could have had every meal in the place with the money the woman had spent. The doors of the elevator opened on the floor she had selected and she stalked out and down the corporate hallway under a full head of steam. People in the hallway, seeing the grim look on her face, her angry gate, and the fact that she was in Federal Marshal tactical response gear, including bullet proof vest and helmet, made sure to get out of her way. Then! Then, her thoughts continued to tumble across her mind, after we had left the restaurant and gone home, Emily found a freaking seventy-five hundred dollar pair of Prada shoes waiting for her outside the apartment door! How in the hell do I compete with seventy-five hundred dollar shoes?! There's no way I can afford that! No way I'm ever going to be able to afford that on a Marshal's salary! Red was a complete doll about the whole thing. I could see on her face that she wanted to keep the shoes so bad she could taste it, but she sent them back without a word of complaint and then made a fuss about how much she liked the winter coat that I gave her even though it wasn't even a designer name. I'm so afraid that, that Italian bitch is a better match for Red than I am. She's into fashion like Red is and that damned woman is a V.I.P. in that world. She could do things for Red's career and get her access to all those clothes she loves so much! De Saix shook her head and grit her teeth, seeing her destination just up ahead. I swear if that Italian bitch keeps getting in the way I don't know what I'll do, but Red is MINE! We're good together. I 'm the one that loves her and I'm the one that's going to take care of her for the rest of our lives! You better watch your ass Miss Arabella Messalina Giovanni because if you keep getting in my way I'll break one of my combat boots off in it. Gud Damn! First I have to deal with her and now I have to deal with this! She fumed.

Arriving at the office that was her destination, she open the door and entered the outer office, not even slowing down as the Assistant seated there tried to stop her. She slammed the door to Laura Fleury, Executive Producer for the Arts and Entertainment Television Network and the woman responsible for the show that DeSaix was now an integral part of, open. DeSaix slapped both hands down on the surprised woman's desk. “If one of your camera crew ever,” she ground out between clenched teeth, “EVER, AGAIN gets in my line of fire when I am covering one of my team during a fugitive apprehension, I SWEAR TO GOD THAT I WILL FUCKING SHOOT THEM IN A PART OF THEIR ANATOMY THAT THEY WILL MISS! THEN I'LL SHOOT THE GOD DAMNED CAMERA!” ARE WE CLEAR?!” She bellowed into the woman's face.

***** 

“And in another brilliant move, our own Devil in Heels, La Priestly, has again surprised the fashion world. Apparently her walking out on fashion week in Paris last October was a ploy to scoop the entire fashion publishing industry on what is going to be hot this coming year,” the television fashion commentator said excitedly into her microphone. “Along with these new and exciting innovations that have the whole fashion world buzzing, she has turned all fashion watchers back on their ears as she and up-and-coming fashion queen Samantha Potts of Teen Runway have launched a collaborative effort to bring back a romanticized variation on the Goth look. Black is definitely going to be the ‘in’ color this season!” 

Miranda sat at her desk at Runway, half listening to the latest episode of New York City's highest-rated celebrity and entertainment gossip show. Four months, she mused in her thoughts. Four short months. So much has happened in that relatively short time frame.

After Andy had remembered that she loved Miranda, things progressed rapidly. Within days they were once again sharing a bed. It was a little longer before Andrea could relax enough that they could make love as they once had, but Miranda suspected that, such was a perfectly normal reaction to one that had suffered such traumatic and disfiguring injuries as her Andrea had sustained. Miranda simply made sure that she told Andrea each and every day how beautiful she was to Miranda and how her presence made Miranda's life better in every way.

Her Andrea tried not to show the growing frustration she felt. She had gone and given almost all for her country. Lost an arm and a leg and three years of her life. Three years that Andrea had confided that she now believed were likely the most important and formative in her life. Now, the capable young woman that had been decorated by the hand of the President of the United States with the highest award the nation could give, couldn't find a job.

Miranda had, of course, offered to intervene. There were numerous jobs at Runway and throughout the publications that Elias-Clarke produced that Andrea was more than qualified for. There were any number of contacts in any number of industries to whom Miranda could make a single telephone call and Andrea would be hired on the spot. Her Andrea forbade it. One night, early on, in their shared bed, Andrea had explained that this was something she had to do for herself. She felt that she had to reclaim her life, on her own terms, and while Miranda was an integral and as necessary as breathing part of that life, her interference in Andrea's trying to reclaim the rest of that life on her own would not be appreciated.

So Miranda had done the hard thing and stood back and watched her Andrea struggle to find where she fit in. When the frustration had become too much, Andrea had fallen back on some of her training from Northwestern University's School of Journalism. She began to question. Were others returning from the conflict zones experiencing what she was? She began to research how many other wounded veterans were coming home only to be unable to find work. From wounded vets she progressed to researching simply those coming home from wars. The numbers that Andrea had painstakingly gathered, vetted, and then presented to Miranda stunned the older woman. America's patriotic youth, who went and did as the Country required, were coming home to mass unemployment. 

Miranda also watched her Andrea struggle to try and navigate the labyrinthine bureaucracy of the Veteran’s Administration for both her medical needs and the benefits she was due from her service. Miranda feared for her Andrea's mental health, as the young woman became more and more despondent and started slipping into depression. It seemed that the only things that could cheer Andrea up were Miranda's twin daughters and the time the four of them spent together as a family. Then, one day very recently, when Andrea was sinking into one of her dark moods, Cassidy, who had been looking through Andrea's newest research on mental health and the suicide rate among soldiers returning from combat zones, had casually commented, “you should write a book.” That was the turning point. In the course of a week Andrea had turned out four hundred pages of a rough draft and the light had come back into her eyes.

The situation around the expulsion of the five students who had been the principle plotters in the intrigue to get Cassidy and Caroline thrown out of Dalton was a nasty piece of business. Although the student body, for the most part, rallied and pulled together into the more egalitarian social arrangement that her daughters' and their friends had envisioned, from the parents there were threats of lawsuits and attempted bribery of school officials. For once Miranda stayed above the situation and did not attempt to manage it. She was simply grateful that the school authorities had been vigilant enough that the plot had been ferreted out and exposed before any damage was done to her beloved daughters. 

She only involved herself when Ashlyn Miller's mother came to her office at Runway, in tears. Miranda and Dorothy Miller had never been friends. In fact, they disdained each other’s company socially, after their initial meetings when Caroline and Ashley had started being friends. Now the woman came to Miranda begging that Miranda use her power on behalf of the five children that had plotted against her daughters. The press hadn't yet picked up on the expulsion of five affluent students from Dalton. That was nothing news worthy. Kids were getting kicked out of private schools all the time. 

The District Attorney’s office getting ready to file criminal charges against five minors for possession and attempted distribution of child pornography, however, was a completely different matter. The salacious quality of decadent affluence and illegality coupled with the forbidden sexual nature of the materials the children involved were going to use to frame Miranda's twins made the story all too tempting for the sensation hungry press. Dorothy Miller knew all too well that the tabloids were going to have a field day with her daughter's reputation. She also knew that if Miranda Priestly would make the proper phone calls, that the respectable mainstream press would be far more likely to downplay the more torrid aspects of the situation and dispassionately report the facts of the story rather than sensationalize it. It wouldn't do a lot for the immediate future of the five ex-Dalton students, but in the long term it might allow them entry into a good college and have a chance at a decent job without what was truly a very misguided childish attempt to maintain a position at the top of what they had perceived as the social hierarchy at Dalton, ruining the rest of their lives. Miranda gave the matter serious thought for all of ten minutes before she started making the requested calls. She might be the Ice Queen in business, but she was also a mother and could understand that this other woman, whom she did not particularly like, also loved and wanted what was best for her daughter.

Andrea and Miranda's relationship was sometimes still strained, mainly because Miranda would forget that Andrea did not remember what to her were shared experiences. There was also the fact that Andrea, post amnesia, had not worked at Runway and consequently, had never been properly terrified of the Devil in Heels. Miranda found herself with a woman that was completely her equal and the experience she was having alternately invigorated and infuriated her. She was feeling more alive than she had in years and she had her young lover to thank for it.

Next week they would leave for Fashion Week in Milan. Following that week they would tour Florence, Venice, Tuscany and then Rome. Andrea would finish the good will tour the U.S. Government had asked her to make and she would do it with Miranda at her side. From what Miranda had gathered from the people she had spoken too in Italy, the trip was likely to be quite a ride as she had been told that the Italian people were pulling out all the stops for the return of the Hero Sachs. 

***** 

Five months since the LT was recalled from Italy. Now she's a TV star. thought T.J. Scruggs as he looked out over the thirty acres of land he had purchased with his savings and a G. I. Bill home loan. The house needed work, but there wasn't anything he couldn't do himself. He had enough left in the bank to take care of all of it as long as he didn't find something major that was concealed from both his careful inspection and the inspection of home inspector done as part of the mortgage agreement. But what ever came now, it was his. Well, his and his new wife's. One of his six juvenile Irish Wolfhound bitches came up to him and nosed him in the belly, demanding a scratch behind the ears. He smiled down at the dog's massive head and complied. As he scratched the dog's head he looked out over a beautiful view of Glassy Mountain, South Carolina and considered starting dinner. His new wife would be home soon.

She had spent the afternoon in town shopping for things necessary for their new home. They had gotten the basics such as pots, pans, plates and flatware, the first weekend after they'd arrived in South Carolina.Today she was shopping for some of the niceties like curtains, tablecloths, towels and an area rug for the floor of the bedroom.

Scruggs was surprised that he was married already. He'd always thought that he'd get his dogs first and then find himself a wife, but that just wasn't how things worked out. Finding a woman that loved dogs as much as he did was such a plus it left him with no choice but to marry her. If he'd waited she might have gotten away. Amelie had stayed in Rome for more than a month as Scruggs healed in the hospital and then had seemingly been forgotten by the Army. With no orders arriving reassigning him, he spent his duty time hanging around the Embassy waiting to be told what to do. Not being assigned to the Embassy's military contingent, he didn't have a duty station. This created a situation where he was free late afternoon each day. So each evening, he and Amelie explored Rome together. They talked about everything under the sun and discovered that they shared many common interests. Amelie was fascinated with Scruggs dream of a dog breeding business and loved to hear him talk about it.

She said that she wished life had allowed her to pursue such a dream. She was overcome with emotion when she discovered that Scruggs had gone to the trouble of buying and reading a book on Bichon Friese in consideration of her beloved dogs. When he spoke of a breeding kennel of the smaller dogs rather than the bigger ones he had always postulated when speaking of his dreams she decided that she would marry him.

She was the one who suggested that there wasn't any reason that her beloved fur children Orpheus and Eurydice could not live happily among a pack of larger dogs. If the breeding stock for the business was brought in as puppies after Orpheus and Eurydice were already in residence, the adult dogs dealing with puppies would quickly become the dominant pair regardless of the size of the new dogs.

The Army, as an institution, never does what you expect when you are in it. Apparently the chain of command, having temporarily forgotten about one Corporal T. J. Scruggs, suddenly remembered two weeks before his scheduled discharge date. In its infinite wisdom, it, of course, decided to give him a month’s leave. Scruggs looked at the orders, shook his head and traveled to Paris with Amelie. A month later, civilian T. J. Scruggs helped his new bride move the few things she wanted to keep from her apartment and the private investigations office to the docks to be placed in a container for shipment to Charleston, South Carolina. She had already divested herself of everything that she wasn't bringing to her new life in rural South Carolina. He, she and their two beloved dogs flew out of Orley Airport later that same day.

They had found what was once a farmstead in the shadow of Glassy Mountain and fell in love with it at first sight. It was a property that was about to fall into foreclosure and be taken from the family that had tried to make a life on it. Scruggs went to the bank and told the bank manager that he was just out of the military, just married, and had savings with the possibility of a G.I. Bill mortgage. Then he handed the bank manager the business plan he created in support of his dreams. The courses DeSaix had convinced him to take in preparation for life after the army had taught him to create and organize his dreams into real plans. The bank manager looked the business plan over, asked a few questions, and then approved a short-sale on the property that was beneficial to all parties involved. Scruggs and Amelie got the property at a good price, the family that had been in financial distress managed to walk away with less of a hit to their credit rating than a foreclosure would have caused and the bank made more on the property than they likely would have at auction. On top of that, the bank got the business of the new company “Orpheus and Eurydice's Irish Wolfhounds”.

Maybe at the end of the summer he'd invite the LT and her girlfriend to visit them. He'd like the LT to meet his wife, after all he and Amelie had already decided that the first baby girl they had was going to be named Meriwether.

***** 

“Six months since Andy returned from Italy,” Emily mused sourly, “and now I have to deal with this!” She glanced again at the picture in People magazine of Miranda Priestly, wearing of all things cerulean blue nylon bike shorts, a nylon athletic sleeveless workout tank top in the same color, sunglasses, a Northwestern University baseball cap and a pair of running shoes, while high end, their color did not go with the rest of La Priestly's ensemble. The picture was taken in Central Park as Miranda engaged in part of her new daily exercise regimen. Emily sighed softly. Damn, the woman looks magnificent even when she sweats, the Englishwoman thought. Of course the photograph also contained Andy. You just didn't get a picture of Miranda Priestly anymore without it containing Andy Sachs too. Andy, dressed similarly to Miranda, only in a dark mustard yellow color, openly showed off her prosthetic arm because of the lack of sleeve on the athletic top. Below, she wore her specialized prosthetic designed for running. The twins had dubbed it, her “Darth Vader” leg, when they'd given it to her for Christmas. More than anything else it was a bent metal spring of steel covered in black and silver power coat enamel with touches of bright red highlighting. The device was designed to allow those who had lost a limb to once again run. Miranda and Andy were now running together several days a week and the paparazzi had taken to staking out their favored routes. Word that the Dragon Lady of Runway was romantically involved with an ex-second assistant, wounded war hero had begun to find its way into the press. Miranda didn't seem to be concerned about it so Emily wondered why she should be. 

Miranda had her so busy these days learning to run the magazine that she could barely see straight and Miranda had made it clear to the Elias-Clarke Board of Directors that Emily was her choice as the next Editor-in-Chief of Runway. The paparazzi and Page Six had learned of Miranda's support and now the photographers had begun to pay attention to her. That coupled with the times the television show that Meriwether was now a part of was following the couple around filming them for use in upcoming episodes and Emily was getting pretty tired of cameras being aimed in her direction.

She and Andy had become closer friends since Andy's return from Italy. Andy, Miranda and Emily and Meriwether had socialized together at each other’s homes. Emily had also acted as a facilitator between Andy and Serena when Andy found out about Serena and her father's relationship. Andy didn’t remember her association with Serena other than the few days she had returned to Runway after going AWOL from Walter Reed Hospital. So Emily had arranged several girls' nights out. These allowed Andy to get a feel for the woman who was in love with her father. Because of Emily's involvement, Andy and Serena were on their way to being friends. 

She heard the door of the apartment open. “There's a brand new Lamborghini in our assigned parking space, Red,” came her lover's voice, the tone testy.

“It will be moved soon,” Emily replied absently as she continued to pursue the latest edition of the gossip magazine in her hands. “I've already called the dealership and told them that I won't sign for it.”

“She sent it, didn't she?” Meriwether grated, moving to the gun safe she'd had installed right after moving in and punched in the combination code. She divested herself of the Glock automatic pistol from her hip, carefully ejecting the magazine and checking the chamber before placing the gun in the safe. “I swear to God, Emily, if she shows up when I take you out to dinner tomorrow night to celebrate six months together, I won't be responsible for what happens.” 

Emily nodded. “I hear that she's supposed to be appearing in a show in London Saturday evening. I can't see how she could stalk us on Friday night and make it to that show.”

Meriwether pulled her smaller Walther PPK backup piece out of the ankle holster she wore it in and after giving it the same treatment that the gun she wore on her hip got, it also went into the safe. Then Meriwether closed and secured the door. “She does know I go armed, doesn't she?” She asked.

Emily laughed, “That only makes it more exciting for her, Meri,” she said smiling at her lover. “Bella's certifiably crazy. The last time I met with her trying to convince her to appear in Runway, she spent the entire meeting trying to convince me to convince you to have a ménage a trois.”

“A ménage a...” the Creole woman sputtered, “I trust you let her know that such a thing was out of the question.”

Emily chuckled and smiled a wicked smile. “Well, dearest,” she said playfully, “you know how badly Miranda wants her in Runway and it’s my job to make it happen. If all it takes is sharing you for a night...:”

Meriwether's eyes widened in surprise and then narrowed. She advanced toward where her apparently carefree lover sat. “Sharing?” She demanded, “Why I ought to take you over my knee for the very suggestion!”

Emily looked up at her lover of half a year. She moved, cat like, turning and stretching on the couch in a way that saucily offer her behind to her lover. “I guess you'll just have to do as you think best,” she replied in her most playful, seductive tone. ”

***** 

Cassidy smiled as stood before the mirror. Has it really been only seven months since Andy came to live with us? She thought as she tried on her new Goth ball gown. So many good things have happened since then! The outfit that her sister had created for her, exclusively, was magnificent. She was going to stun her date when Roxy came to pick her up to take her to the Dalton Spring Dance. She couldn't wait. She was going to make a grand entrance down the stairs of the town house and watch her Roxy just melt when she saw what she was wearing. They were going to be the hottest couple at the dance tonight. This outfit was Caroline's first real success. Her earlier attempts hadn't lacked looks or style, they had just suffered from the fact that someone that was just learning to sew wasn't truly prepared to make a dress starting from the drawing of a design on a piece of paper stage. Even last month Caroline had made a miscalculation on another outfit she'd been working on and gotten the fabric of one of the sleeves wrong side out when she'd sewed it up. That being said, Cassidy had never seen her sister go at anything the way she was pursuing learning to make clothes. It was like Caroline felt about what she was doing the way Cassidy felt about Roxanna. 

Cassidy smiled a small wicked smile. Caroline wasn't going to the dance tonight, Ian was with the Track Team at an away event this weekend, and Caroline had no interest in going stag. Cassidy felt bad for her sister, so she had raided her cache of money from Birthday and Christmas gifts and enlisted Andy's aid. When she left for the dance tonight, Andy would present Caroline with the sewing machine that Cassidy had bought for her. It wasn't as fancy as some of the ones Cassidy and Andy had looked at, but the woman at the sewing store had said that it was a good beginner's machine, with plenty of stitches and other features that Caroline would need to learn to master. There was an hour and a half instructional DVD with the machine and Cassidy figured between watching that and playing with her new toy, her twin would be distracted for the course of the evening while she was at the dance.

Her mom and the Editor-in-Chief of Teen Runway had initiated a rebooting of Goth style in mainstream fashion. Her mom had made it clear to the designers that she had trusted to bring this vision to life to cull the harsher aspects of Goth fashion and rely more on the romantic lines of the pseudo-Victorian style. None of the designers had gotten it on the first several tries, but Caroline had. Caroline had started creating Goth designs with Cassidy in mind before her mother had ever come up with the idea of bringing the style back. Now that the reintroduction of Goth fashion to the mainstream public was underway, her Mom was showing the designers responsible for making the necessary fashions Caroline's drawing to illustrate what it was she expected of them. Several of the designers were impressed with her talent and vision. Discussions of possible after-school work and internships were in the air.

As far as Cassidy herself was concerned, life couldn't be much better. Mom was with Andy. It was different now than it had been before, when Andy and Mom were just friends. Now they were like a married couple. No, that wasn't true; they were like the married couples that you see on T.V. Situation comedies. The ones that were happy and made each other laugh and smile all the time. The ones that were always caught kissing when they thought nobody was looking. Caroline was always saying things like “get a room” to them when the twins would discover them, arms about each other and Mom's lipstick mussed. Cassidy didn't say anything because Cassidy believed that she understood. She hadn't even shared it with her sister, but she and Roxy stole the occasional kiss. She and Roxy weren't innocent of what was going on around them. They were aware that many of their peers were sexually active. They had just mutually decided to take things slow. They were fine with hugs, hand holding and cuddling. Kisses about blew their minds. Somewhere down the road, she was aware, that she and Roxy would take that next step, but that was for another day when they both felt ready to do that.

Her and her sister’s relationship with their father had gone from zero to sixty over the months since they had gotten involved in trying to hide Andy from the Army. They now spent every other week living with their dad and it was a great arrangement. When they were with him the three of them would do all sorts of things together. And he was always welcoming to her Roxy and to Ian when they came to visit. He wasn't perfect, but he was trying hard and Cassidy especially loved him for that. The doorbell downstairs rang. Her knight-errant Roxanna the Clever had arrived to escort her to the ball. She felt that her life was just about perfect now.

***** 

Eight months since Andy came home from Italy, Richard Sachs thought. So much has changed since the Army recalled her to duty. In a few months I'll be divorced. I've moved from my lifelong home of Cincinnati to become a resident of New York City and landed a job making more money than I ever believed I would. He shook his head as he looked out from the veranda of the 'cabana' that he and Serena were staying in while visiting her family in Brazil. Down on the private beach Serena and her two sisters ran and frolicked in the surf, playing as they had when they were children and their mother had brought them to their vacation home along the coast just south of Rio de Janeiro.

His thoughts raced back over the days and weeks after he and Serena drove back from Cincinnati to New York City. Once ensconced in Serena's apartment, Richard did the responsible thing and started to look for a job. He'd been at it all of two days when he received a call from Alice McCann, the Elias-Clarke Board Member who had handled the company's end of the negotiations to settle Serena's sexual harassment suit. “I was wondering, Mr. Sachs,” she had said, “if you might be willing to meet me for lunch. I have a proposition for you.”

He'd gone and met her at a five star restaurant and over a wonderful meal discovered that her service on the Board of Elias-Clarke was really more of a part-time job and most of the time she managed her family's wealth and philanthropic pursuits. She had some time ago, she continued, become dissatisfied with the legal firm representing her family's interests, feeling that they had too many clients to concentrate the kind of attention necessary to adequately do the job. Then she told him that she had been impressed with his handling of Serena's case and named a figure which was considerably more than Richard Sachs had ever made in the two best years he ever had combined.

“Let me get this straight,” he's said, “You're offering me that amount to be your family lawyer? Your family being my sole client?”

She nodded across the table.

“Ms. McCann,” he said. “I think you've just hired yourself a lawyer.”

The work for the McCann family was not difficult for one with Richard's experience in the law. Dealing with charitable trusts, contracts, and the occasional minor encounter with matters extra-legal wasn't even a forty-hour a week proposition.

He and Serena quickly settled into a quiet domestic routine and were thoroughly enjoying themselves. Then one day Serena had suggested that they fly to Rio de Janeiro to celebrate her mother, Babtista's, upcoming birthday.

When Serena had told him that he and she would be staying in the family's beach cabana he had pictured a small quaint cabin on the beach. The cabana was seventeen rooms, including a full gym and spa. The main house, just a fair walk inland, was a mansion that dwarfed the cabana.

Richard had come to Brazil expecting to have an uphill battle to win over Serena's parents and siblings. He was certain that there would be dire concerns about their age difference and the fact that Serena had come from wealth and he struggled a good portion of his life to keep his family in a middle class lifestyle. He couldn't have been more mistaken about the reception he received.

Serena's Mother and two sisters were warmly welcoming, embracing him immediately as if he was one of their own. The women of Serena's family were every bit as beautiful as Serena. The only member of Serena's immediate family that was absent was Serena's father, who, Serena's Mother assured Richard, had been detained on business and would be joining them the following day. 

As the first day of the visit progressed Richard found himself alone for a time with Serena's mother when Serena's sisters insisted on taking Serena shopping in Rio. Richard had a moment's hesitation but decided that he must engage and do his utmost to win Serena's mother over, for he could no longer envision his life without Serena in it. He was unprepared for the discussion he found himself in. 

Before their arrival, Serena had told Richard that her mother was being thoughtful in assigning them the cabana rather than having them staying with the rest of the family in the main house. Serena's mother had been somewhat more direct in a ruthlessly practical and teasing sort of way. She had explained to him point blank that he and her daughter were new lovers and new lovers should not have their 'appetites' restricted by living among family. She had also informed him that Serena's sisters would tease Serena mercilessly, knowing her habit of being circumspect about her sex life. If Serena were living in the main house, among her siblings, she would not be comfortable being the uninhibited lover her mother assumed she was. 

After the initial shock over the openness and frank nature of the conversation, Richard steeled himself to address what he felt was the eight hundred pound gorilla in the room, Serena's and his age difference. “Babtista,” he began awkwardly. “I know that this is somewhat difficult. I mean, I have a daughter that is just a year younger than your daughter.”

Babtista held up a hand to silence him. “My family, Richard,” she had said as she mixed another Caipirinha cocktail for the two of them as they sat outside in the late afternoon air, “has always been blessed with a youthful countenance. My daughters are all in the bloom of youth, but as you see, they are quite close in age with only a year or two separating each of them. There is a very good reason for that. My eldest is presently, twenty-eight, your Serena is twenty-six and my youngest is twenty-four. Knowing that, look at me, what would you say my age is?” 

Richard shook his head, “I know better than to guess a woman's age, it's a lose, lose proposition if you guess right or wrong,” he replied laughingly

Serena's mother joined in the laughter. “I see what my daughter sees in you,” she said. “But please, indulge me. I promise to take no offense.”

Richard looked at her closely. “If I didn't know Serena's age and know that you were her mother, I'd say you were in your mid to late thirties, knowing what I know, I'm going to guess that you're a few years younger than I am. Which would make you getting close to fifty.”

Babtista laughed again. “Richard,” she said gently, handing him his drink. “My husband is a few years younger than you are. And I am twenty-one years his senior. I will be seventy my next birthday, which you are here to celebrate with us. I was forty-one when I married my Vicente. He was a boy of twenty. I was my parents’ only surviving child and had inherited the family businesses. The basis of my family's wealth was initially in cattle ranching, but my Grandfather was smart enough to diversify into other agricultural businesses, adding sugarcane and coffee plantations. Then my father took us into petroleum, automobile and agricultural machinery manufacturing. I have since added computer manufacturing as well. My father passed away suddenly when I was about Serena's age. After his death I spent more and more time involved in running of the family businesses. I, like my Serena, looked and looked for he who would be the love of my life, but as time passed I despaired of ever finding my true love. When I got to my late thirties I resolved that I would likely never marry. I was forty when mother passed away after a long and debilitating illness. I needed to get away from everything for a while, so I left everything in the hands of the company managers and retreated back to the family ranch in the extreme South of the country. It was there that I met my Vicente. He was a Gaucho who didn't have two centavos to rub together, but he was beautiful and wild and free. I lost my heart to him within days of meeting him. And he returned my love. How all my social class laughed when I married him less than a year later! Many women of wealth in this country keep young men as lovers, but few acknowledge them or dare formalize things legally. All my peers told me that he married me for my fortune. When they said so it was my turn to laugh at them. Now, twenty nine years later we are still married and still happy. Age has nothing to do with love, Richard. And my daughter Serena loves you. She called me within days of meeting you and told me with certainty that she had lost her heart and that she would have you in her life for as long as you would allow. Serena is my careful child. My thoughtful one. She has never given me any reason to doubt any of the choices she has made, so you are welcome here and welcome into this family.”

Richard sat stunned; his future mother-in-law truly understood and was welcoming him with open arms.

She looked out over the garden surrounding the house. “Vicinte will be here tomorrow.” You will meet my Cowboy,” she offered softly, her voice full of good humor and affection. “He is a man of this country, which means in many ways, still the boy I married. Don't let him talk you into contests. It is the macho culture of his heritage that will demand that he do so. While the heart in love remains young, our bodies do not. Neither of you need the aches and pains that proving yourselves to each other would bring the following morning.” She then turned and looked at her guest. “The next time you come to visit you must bring my new Granddaughter. Serena tells me her name is Andy...” 

***** 

Wade Bradly placed a framed picture of his beautiful daughters at about six years of age into the cardboard box on his desk. He sighed. He supposed that his melancholy feeling could be explained by the fact that he was stripping his personal items out of his office in the company he had built. That he was leaving behind what he'd worked to create much of his adult life. The room already looked bare. He smiled and shook his head. It wasn't quitting the company or moving out of this office that he's spent so much time in that had him out of sorts. It was his off week. Miranda and Andy had the girls this week and he was finding his house both too empty and too quiet. He placed another item in the box. So much has changed in the eight months since my daughters confessed to helping Andy elude the police. Miranda and I are doing better in cooperating as parents for our daughters. Andy is with them now and she's good for Miranda and the girls. He sighed again and placed another personal item into the box. An idea began to form. One that he wouldn't even have considered trying eight months ago. He pulled out his cell phone and hit a number on his speed dial. After dealing with one of Miranda's assistants he had his ex-wife on the phone. “Miranda,” he said, “I don't mean to bother you, but today is my last day at the office and to tell you the truth, I'm feeling a little down. I was wondering if you might allow me to see the girls tonight, perhaps even take them out to dinner?” He listened for a moment and then continued. “Yes, I'll call them and make sure it's okay with them and that they don't have other plans. Thank you Miranda, I was feeling pretty blue and I think this will cheer me up.” 

A few minutes later he was on the phone with his daughter Caroline. “So, you're sure that you and your sister didn't have any other plans tonight?” he paused as he listened to the response. “Okay, well choose where the two of you would like to eat. I'll pick you up about five and we'll have dinner and then make an early showing of that movie you wanted to see.” He was smiling when he got off the phone. Leaving his work life behind so he could concentrate on his family life wasn't going to be difficult. In the weeks ahead that he didn't have the girls he intended to volunteer his skills at a number of non-profit organizations whose causes he supported. Then on weeks when he did have them, he'd continue to do his damnedest to make up for the time he'd missed with them. All in all he was glad of his heart attack. It had allowed him to reevaluate what was important to him and to make changes to his life. The future was better for it having happened.

*****

Ten Months, Lucrezia Bianchi sighed, Ten Months since Bella brought the Hero Sachs to Capri, she thought as she swerved to avoid another waiter laden with a tray moving though the ristorante kitchen. One of the tables she was responsible for serving was being exceedingly difficult. The fat middle-aged man at the table had pinched her on the ass and the woman at the table was determined not to be satisfied with anything placed before her. The seating hostess spoke to her in passing, “I've just seated table four. She wants a Champagne Cocktail. I've already placed the order with the bar. Lucrezia nodded, acknowledging instructions and changed her course for the bar. Picking up the drink where it awaited her she recognized it as a Flitini, Bella’s drink of choice. Her heart wrenched. She wanted to hate the woman, but her love for her was too strong. For four months, she had been unable to find employment. As Bella had promised no one of worth would have her as an assistant. Her savings began to dwindle and finally, in desperation, she had resorted to looking for other forms of employment. She had found this job and since had slowly started rebuilding her life. 

She had, over the intervening months, kept an eye on the tabloids reporting Bella's extravagances. The Italian press found humor in Bella's quest to seduce the new heir-apparent to the Editor-in-Chief's position at the American version of Runway magazine. They reported on the expensive gifts sent and returned. They gleefully chronicled the tempestuous public encounters between Bella, the redheaded woman and her cafe-au-lait skinned lover, who was some kind of law enforcement officer and reality television star. 

Then, about six months ago, when the Hero Sachs returned to Italy to continue her good will tour, one of Bella's groundskeepers had sold the story of the night of the Hero Sachs' kidnapping and her escape from Bella's villa in Capri to one of the tabloids. As of the printing of that story, the Italian people, who, before, had tolerated Bella's antics with amused affection, turned on her with a vengeance. While Bella was still the premier fashion model in Europe, no Italian magazine would currently engage her services. Lucrezia had heard that Bella had sold her houses in Italy and left the country of her birth to live elsewhere.

Lost in her thoughts she navigated the maze of tables in the section of the ristorante that she was responsible for and arriving at table four she plastered a smile on her face and moved to deliver the ordered drink. It always helped earn tips if you smiled when you dealt with the patrons. The smile died on her lips. Bella was hiding behind large sunglasses and a wide brimmed hat, but it was unquestionably her. Lucrezia's hand shook. She tried to marshal herself. She could do this. Bella was simply another customer of the ristorante and Lucrezia needed this job. Rent was due and she was struggling to even begin to rebuild what savings she had, had.

Bella looked up at her and Lucrezia could see that her former friend's face was gaunt, her complexion gray. The stories about Bella drinking too much, taking drugs and wild partying were no doubt true. Lucrezia carefully placed the drink on the table before her customer. By rote, she remembered what she was supposed to say. “Welcome to Ristorante Parioli. I am Lucrezia and I will be your server today.”

Bella looked up at her from behind the dark glasses that hid her eyes. “You have been difficult to find, Lucrezia,” she said softly. “It has been very naughty of you to hide from me. It is time for you to come home now.”

Lucrezia looked at the woman seated before her. “I am home Bella,” she replied softly. “This is where I work now to earn my daily bread.”

Bella glanced around. “It is beneath you,” she responded flatly. “You will come back to work for me.”

Lucrezia felt slightly hysterical at the absurdity of the situation. She was at work, she needed the job, and she needed to remain calm and professional. “I will never work for you again Bella,” she managed the volume of her deliver rising slightly and the next table over beginning to notice the interaction between the waitress and the fashionably dressed patron of the ristorante. 

“Nonsense,” Bella answered. “You, as you say, must earn your daily bread, and I pay far better than what you can earn here.” Bella drew off her sunglasses and shook her head. “And that pitiful little apartment you are living in? One would think that you would run screaming back to what I offer you.”

And with that Lucrezia Bianchi lost both her mind and her job. She picked up the Champagne Cocktail where it sat before Bella and threw it in full in the woman's face. Then for the next five minutes she got nose-to-nose with the seated, shocked diva and vented about five years of loyal service, each word rising in volume and each gesticulation more frantic. “Five years of lying and coercing and spinning what had happened to protect you from your own follies!” she screamed. “Of smoothing over things with photographers, fashion designers, and fashion show management!” Five years of spinning things to the tabloids and the press to cover up your ridiculous antics! Five years of you expecting me to help pander for you! And you never even looked at me! Me! Who would have done anything for you!” By the time she was done screaming at her customer, the manager of the ristorante was at the table frantically apologizing to the famous Arabella Messalina Giovanni and emphatically gesturing Lucrezia out the door, telling her she was fired. With tears running down her face, Lucrezia undid the apron that was part of her waitress uniform and threw it to the floor. Her head held high; she stalked past the staring customers and out on to the street. She stopped at the bus stop on the corner to take the bus she had ridden to and from work each day for the last time. 

A moment later Bella was there behind her. “Come home with me,” the beautiful Italian model said again.

Lucrezia turned on her and snarled “Don't you understand Bella!? I can't work for you anymore! I can't! I lied to myself for too long and it cost me too much emotionally when you fired me! I can't be your employee anymore!”

“Then don't come as an employee,” Bella whispered, and for the first time Lucrezia realized that there were tears in Bella's eyes too. “But come home with me.”

Lucrezia shook her head violently. “If you do this Bella. If you take me home with you, as your lover, I will never let you go. If you ever betray me with another woman, I will murder you with my bare hands. Think well before you ask me again, for by holy God and all the Saints, I mean what I say! If you ever do that to me I will wrap my hands about your throat and I will squeeze until the light in your eyes goes out! You will breathe your last breath into my face, and then I will happily spend the rest of my life in prison for what I have done!”

Bella shivered, knowing that Lucrezia had never, ever, lied to her. “Come home with me, Mia Lucrezia” she whispered. “Come home to our bed.”

***** 

Eleven months since that red-headed English bitch betrayed me, Senator Beauregard Meriweather thought as he looked across the table at his extremely expensive team of lawyers. The room was silent. “What do you mean that the District Attorney’s office isn't offering a plea deal?” He demanded. “Don't they know who I am?” 

“Senator,” said his lead defense council, “the prosecuting attorney has a virtually airtight case. She has video of the crime. She has the testimony of the victim of the crime. Since that crime became public in the media, she has had more victims come forward and offer testimony. In this instance, the District Attorney's office doesn't see any benefit to them cutting you a deal. 

“Damn it man!” The Senator swore, “You're my lawyers! You're supposed to be figuring a way to get me out of this! I'm a United States Senator for God's sake! Doesn't that count for anything?!”

The only female attorney in the room was an African-American woman that had been recently brought in by the legal defense team because she was just that damn good. She looked at the Senator with contempt. “Senator,” she said carefully, “I remind you that the title you use is an honorific now. The Senate threw you out soon after the video of you having sex with that underage girl found its way onto the internet. If, and it's a big if, we can convince a jury that the sex on that recording was consensual, you're still looking at the strong probability of a statutory rape conviction.”

Senator Meriweather looked at her with naked hatred. “John,” he said to his lead attorney, “I don't know that I trust this woman...”

The lead attorney cut him off, “Senator, she is the best of the best. If your defense is to have a prayer in front of judge and jury, we need her!”

The lead attorney's cell phone rang and he answered it. After listening for a long moment he looked again at the Senator where he sat. “What relationship do you have with Polina Nazarova, the woman the press calls the Georgetown Madam?”

The Senator looked at the man. “I've had some dealings with some of her associates,” he answered carefully.

“Her associates in the Russian Mob?” The woman defense council asked pointedly.

“Nothing has ever been proven against any of them!” The Senator exclaimed.

“Well, the Washington D.C. Police ran a sting aimed at Ms. Nazarova's operations again last weekend and apparently caught her red-handed in the act of pandering this time.” The lead defense attorney said to the man he was defending. “Now my source close to the District Attorney's office is telling me that she had five more DVD's of you she'd like to trade to make her arrest go away. My source tells me that the District Attorney's Office is much more amenable to a deal with her rather than a deal with you.”

The African-American woman attorney rose and started gathering her things into her brief case. “John,” she said sweetly to the lead attorney. “It was nice of you to consider asking me to aid you, this being a very high profile case, but there are two problems with it. First, it's a dead bang case and one for the prosecution's win column. I have political ambitions a few years down the road and I don't want this loss hung around my neck.”

John looked at her and nodded solemnly. “I understand what you're saying Irene, but it's our job to make sure he gets the best defense possible,” he answered quietly and with a note of desperation.

Senator Beauregard Meriweather bristled. “Madam,” he said, superciliously. “My lawyer thinks we need you to win this case. I am wealthy, very important and extremely well-connected politically. He looked the attractive woman up and down lasciviously. “I'm sure we could come to an arrangement where I could help you with your political ambitions.”

She turned and regarded him for a brief moment then turning to the lead attorney she continued as if he hadn't spoken. “The second reason is that your client is a self-aggrandizing ass who has completely lost touch with reality. You want to do him and yourself a favor? Plead this out. A judge trial with a guilty plea will likely cut fifteen years off the final sentence. Do that and your client might, and I repeat, might get out of prison before he dies.” She turned and looked at Senator Meriweather. “As for you, you ignorant Red-Neck Cracker, you’re not rich anymore, the Senate Ethics Committee has been looking into your finances and have ordered all your assets seized. You’re not important anymore, you couldn't get elected dog-catcher at this point and you're no longer well connected politically as no one dares go anywhere near you for fear of your taint rubbing off on them. Your wife is divorcing you and with the way the public is feeling about you at the moment I imagine that the divorce decree will likely give her more than half of what ever pittance is left when the courts get done with your multiple corruption trials. On top of that, if you've been stupid enough to be in bed with the Russian Mob to the point that they were providing you with underage girls to rape for your amusement, you're fucked. Them doing something that dangerous to keep you pliable suggests to me that you must be important to their operations. If that's the case, you better hope that the DA convicts your sorry ass soon and buries you so deep somewhere that they can't find you. Because they don't believe in loose ends. In fact, I'd be surprised if you make it to the trial date. “Good day John. I'd wish you luck, but what you've been dealt here is just an all-around losing hand.”

***** 

Andy tried not to hyperventilate, as she sat trying to concentrate and go over her presentation. A year, she thought. A year since Miranda and I spent that first night together after I got home from Italy.

She tried hard to bring her thoughts back to her notes as she sat in the green room for the U.S. Senate hearing rooms and waited to be called. She was to give testimony before the Armed Services Committee on the care that returning veterans were not getting from their government. Her book on the subject had gone to the top of the New York Times' best sellers list within days of its publication three months ago. The critics had said that the work had been exhaustively researched and brilliantly written. It took the American Government to task for sending its sons and daughters to a new kind of war. A kind of war where battlefield surgeons had learned to save lives of soldiers wounded in the field. To treat injuries that only years ago would have proved fatal. This meant more severely wounded soldiers being returned to civilian life with little in the way of ongoing care provided to them or their families by an unprepared Government. The work also spoke to the mental illnesses that soldiers, engaged multiple deployments in Iraq and Afghanistan had been experiencing in increasing numbers. It highlighted the complete lack of any kind of comprehensive mental health care for returning vets. It also detailed the Governments' lack of programs to aid returning soldiers in finding meaningful employment. Especially those in service in the National Guard units who had lost jobs they had been in because of multiple deployments overseas. 

Her book had also attacked the policy of Don't Ask, Don't Tell and the exclusion of homosexuals from the United States Military. Those sections of the book were made redundant in the final edits, because the Government had outpaced her on that issue and voided those policies. Andy Sachs, ex-Corporal of the 192nd Supply Regiment of the Ohio National Guard, Medal of Honor recipient, had gone from being an unemployed wounded veteran without much hope to being an outspoken and respected advocate for necessary change in matters concerning the care of the Military's men and women when they came home from deployments. She was a regularly invited guest on MSNBC and Fox News, both sides of the political spectrum interested in what she had to say about the unmet needs of those men and women that had selflessly served their country. 

Trying to calm herself, she allowed her thoughts to spiral outward to those who inhabited her life now. Her relationship with her father was...well, weird was a good word. He was working hard to accept that Andy was living with a woman twice her age and she was trying to accept that her father was likely to marry a woman who was less than a full year older than she was. It was a work in progress but yet they had managed, with Miranda's and Serena's help, to find the humor in the situation. Her relationship with her mother was non-existent at the moment. When Andy had contacted Janet Sachs after returning from Italy, her mother had given her an ultimatum. Andy must leave New York and return to live with her in Cincinnati. It was either she or Miranda Priestly and there wasn't any middle ground. Andy had cried for days after that telephone call, but her decision had never been in doubt. She hoped that someday her Mom would come around, but she'd grown up enough to know that the choice was her mother's to make and she couldn't do anything to change that reality. 

Home was her anchor. Her place of calm and focus. She wanted to find that calm and focus right now because in a few minutes she was going to be questioned by an aging Senator, who she had made look like a flaming idiot during a televised debate last night on MSNBC. A debate about a number of the issues being covered in the hearing today. She was going to need her head about her and to remain calm. Her goal was to talk though all the political posturing and accomplish what she needed to accomplish here.

Home was where Miranda was. It wasn't just at the town house, but it had also been with her in Milan, Florence, Venice and Rome. The peoples in the those cities had been warm and welcoming to the “Hero” and the hero's inamorata. Inamorata was a new word to Andy then, but she'd grown to love it. It roughly translated to Lady Love, but she was assured that it had many deeper, nuanced meanings concerning the intimacy and depth of feeling in a relationship. Its beauty and sound just fit Miranda perfectly in Andy's mind. 

Her return to Rome had been nothing less than triumphal. The people of Rome had been embarrassed that their beloved Hero Sachs had been driven from the city in fear for her safety. They meant to make it up to her and her inamorata. All of Rome had opened its doors to the Hero and her white-haired lover and made them welcome. Miranda had been so impressed she had spoken of perhaps, when the time came, honeymooning in the city.

Thinking of Rome made Andy think of DeSaix, Scruggs and Bella. DeSaix she saw on a fairly regular basis, even using the woman as a sounding board and soliciting the ex-soldiers opinions on things that needed to be done for those leaving the Military. 

Scruggs, she had discovered, had indeed left the service and returned to his beloved Blue Ridge in South Carolina. Other than the fact that he'd managed to start building the dog breeding business he had dreamed of, he'd been somewhat evasive about what had happened with the rest of his personal life. DeSaix had jovially filled her in one evening when they were both waiting for their respective lover’s in the lobby of the Elias-Clarke building, so the four could go out to dinner “He got married,” DeSaix had laughingly said.

“That was quick,” Andy responded. “I know he didn't have a girl waiting for him back home because he told me so. Where and when did he meet her?” she had asked.

“I think it was when she shot him in the shoulder in Rome.” DeSaix had answered.

Andy honestly wasn't quite sure how she felt about that, but she sent a nice wedding present anyway.

She then let her thoughts fall on the Italian Model that had kidnapped her. The beautiful woman had not pursued her after Miranda had made it clear to the woman what the cost of doing so would be. The burden of Bella's crazy infatuations had apparently for a time been Emily's and DeSaix's cross to bear. Bella had regularly sent Emily expensive gifts, which Emily always sent back and once a month or so Bella would fly into New York and try to coax Emily into a private meeting with her under the guise of wanting to appear in Runway. The Italian Model has refused all other American magazine's offers, declaring that the only American magazine worthy of her was Runway and that she and Miranda Priestly's heir apparent were in negotiations to make it happen. 

An explanation of the events in Italy finally came to Andy when she received a letter from a Nico Giovanni. The letter was in Italian but Miranda and the girls had managed to translate most of it. Nico was Bella's younger brother. Their extremely Catholic family had shunned both him and Bella when each of them had come out about being gay. To prove that he was a “man” to his father, even though he was gay, he had joined the military medical service, been trained as a nurse and had been deployed to Afghanistan with a medical team doing work with refugee women and children. He had met Andy the day before she was injured, he wrote. She was delivering supplies to the medical team in the village below where she made her stand against the insurgents. They had exchanged nods and smiles as they passed each other in the village square.

Her heroic actions on the mountain top pass overlooking the village was the center point of conversation among the Italian Medical Personnel and the refugees in the village over the days following the event. He had managed some broken communication with some American soldiers that had come to protect the village after the Hero Sachs had so valiantly sacrificed for it. It was from those soldiers that he had learned that the Hero Sachs had survived, but had paid a terrible price. He interpreted what he understood from his broken English and the soldier he spoke with 's broken Italian that the beautiful smiling girl he had seen the day before had lost an arm and a leg and been horribly disfigured. 

Bella was all the family that he had left and he had written her in detail about the heroism of an American woman who had willing lain down her life for refugee women and children and the non-combatant medical personnel in the village. He had told his older sister of his sorrow that this woman, who he had recognized as a lover of women as his sister was, was now broken and deformed because she had protected people she did not even know. He had mused in that letter his hope that the Hero Sachs would find a woman that could love her as she was now. From that seed his sister had somehow gotten the insane idea that it was a good idea to try to convince Andy that she was that woman. Bella had confessed all to him. His letter to Andy, in part, was begging her forgiveness for his accidental participation in starting that particular period of craziness in her life. Andy had asked the twins for their help, using this as an exercise in their learning Italian. She asked that they help her write a letter in response to the one she had received. She told Nico Giovanni that, without reservation, she forgave not only him, but his sister as well. 

A few weeks ago Andy had visited Miranda's office at Runway to meet her lover for a lunch engagement. She had encountered a buoyant Emily, doing of all things, cutting articles out of various scandal tabloids. When Andy questioned what was going on, Emily explained that she was making a collage of them and she was going to have it framed and present it to her lover, Meriwether. Then she handed Andy one of the articles. Apparently Arabella Messalina Giovanni had married her ex-assistant in a beautiful moonlit ceremony in Bruges, Belgium, where the famous Italian model had purchased a large estate and was now apparently living. Emily looked speculatively at Andy. “I wonder what it is about powerful women and their ex-assistants,” she had mused playfully.

A Congressional Page stuck their head into the room and informed her that the Committee would be ready for her in about five minutes. She rose from her seat and shrugged off the jacket she had put on to stay warm in the over air conditioned room. She had six sets of prosthetics at home now, specialized ones for sport, mechanical arms for particular tasks, an arm and a leg made to look as close her real leg and arm as possible. Those two she used so she could attend events with Miranda in couture the woman had selected for her. But today was about psychological warfare. Today was about making a point. So today she had worn a skirt and a sleeveless blouse to Capitol Hill and she purposefully wore the rudimentary prosthetics that the VA had first issued her after her being wounded. She knew there would be news cameras present and she wanted the world to see her as she was, plastic and metal, a mechanical claw/hook for a hand and a titanium pipe for a leg. 

Andy no longer thought of herself as a monster. Miranda Priestly loved her and told her so in every way, every day. Miranda told her daily how beautiful she was and how much being with her meant to the Fashion Maven and Andy felt it in her bones that Miranda had never, ever lied to her. Miranda and her girls made Andy feel whole and loved and safe. So now, confident that her place was at the side of the woman she loved and helping that woman care for her beautiful twin daughters she felt ready to face her future. She was uncertain of what that future was, but she felt it likely that she had more books to write, she also had both political parties sniffing around and floating the idea that she should run for Congress or the Senate. The polls indicated that she would likely win if she chose to go that route. Delegations from both New York and Ohio had approached her and asked permission to set up exploratory committees examining the possibilities of a run for office.

Andy glanced down at her hand. Her promise ring rode there along with an impressive emerald cut diamond engagement ring. The twins were with their father this week and Miranda had surprised her last evening after dinner. The white haired woman had come to stand beside Andy's chair and going down on one knee, offered the ring and asked for Andy's hand in marriage. When Andy was able catch her breath she had kissed the woman until both of them were breathless. As she exited the waiting room and camera flashes started capturing her walk to the table before the hearing panel Andy smiled. She had lost three years of her past, but that was okay because she was building new memories with the woman she loved. She didn't know what the future held, but she was sure that whatever came, it would be side by side with Miranda and caring for Miranda's daughters. Life was good and it was only likely to get better.

*****  
Fini


End file.
